Artificial, Unplanned and Unwanted
by Viridis Lupus
Summary: The Doctor and Amy make a casual stop-off at an intriguing place called the Acorn Centre where they encounter a pleasant nurse who changes their lives forever. With Amy pregnant, the Doctor is in denial. 11th Doctor.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note **

**This fic is based during Matt Smith's first series. I haven't exactly decided when. Please don't try to place it too precisely. Just go with the story I tell. :D Well, it is before Rory died and before he came on the TARDIS. **

**I hope you enjoy it. **

**I'm trying a twist on a common story line. :D **

* * *

"We're in a broom cupboard!" Amy exclaimed as they stepped out of the TARDIS.

"A very spacious, very expensive looking broom cupboard," the Doctor corrected her, "I mean look at _this_!" He cried, holding up a shiny metal contraption with multicoloured buttons down one side and a wobbly bit on the end.

Amy looked at him, sceptically. "And that is?"

"I haven't the foggiest," the Doctor grinned, throwing it down and grabbing her hand before reaching for the door handle that would lead them out of the cupboard. "Come on; let's see where the old girl has landed us this time. She must have wanted us here for a reason because, as much as I tried, I certainly couldn't stop her. She has a mind of her own these days."

With an almighty shove of his shoulder that forced the stiff door open, the two of them tumbled out of the storeroom and into a brightly lit corridor. Both blinked in the sudden artificial light, looking curiously around. Suddenly, something caught the Doctor's attention because he hurried off to the right, dragging Amy with him whether she liked it or not. They stumbled into a small, neat waiting area and looked around. The place was modern, perhaps even futuristic, and designed in a stylish, relaxing way that involved wooden beams and rich leather sofas. A stack of glossy magazines sat on the table in the middle of the waiting area but before Amy could go and investigate, a young woman popped out from a door to their left.

"Ah!" Her eyes lit up when she saw them and Amy vaguely registered that her irises were purple. "Good afternoon. My name's Ester."

"Afternoon," the Doctor agreed, grinning.

"You must be the Harpers. Welcome to the Acorn Centre. You're a little late but that's fine."

Amy and the Doctor exchanged a look. Then he turned back to offer a disarming smile to the friendly woman. "Yes, we're the Harpers. That's us."

"Good. Excellent. Well then, if you'd like to come this way we can get started."

The Doctor clapped his hands together and rubbed them, excitedly. "Oh yes, get started, I like the sound of that."

They followed Ester through the door that she'd appeared from and down another bright corridor with a wonderfully soft, springy green carpet and swirling paintings on the walls. The palette they must have used was all warm, woody colours and Amy decided it felt a bit like an old country house, especially with the fragrant smell of wild flowers that reach her nostrils mixed with the freshness of the wooden arches that lined the passage. This was a very different place to anywhere she'd been with the Doctor before – probably because the Doctor liked looking for the dirt and the grime and the trouble – and she guessed that it may be a hotel or guest house or something along those lines. She wasn't sure what they were going to do when this lady found out they weren't the Harpers but, for now, they were happy to play along. As they always did.

"Through here please," the young woman said, directing them through a door into another side room. "Now, if you'll just wait a moment."

"We're not going anywhere," the Doctor said; his eyes bright with interest as Ester walked over to a cupboard and pulled something out.

"It's very quick. We have it down to ten seconds now and a hundred percent success rate." Ester walked back to them.

"Ooh, what exactly?"

"You don't even need to take your clothes off."

"Oh, really?" The Doctor smirked. Amy jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. This was no time to be making jokes. What was going on? Surely they should be stopping this charade now?

Suddenly, the girl lurched forward and jabbed something at the Doctor. He let out a yelped of surprise, stumbling backwards and wind-milling his arms. She retracted a millisecond later.

"Whoa! I think you nicked my-" The Doctor stopped, blushing when he saw Amy staring bemusedly at him. "So what was that for then?" he quickly asked.

Ester ignored him. "And now to your wife. Here we go."

And then she leant over and, before Amy could dart out of the way, stuck something in her lower abdomen. Amy let out a hiss of surprise and pain and then had a very peculiar sensation of something being emptied inside her. She glanced, fearfully, over the Doctor and saw that a look of horrified comprehension had suddenly dawned on his face.

"Oh…._OH!_ No, that's wrong! You shouldn't be doing that!" he yelped, leaping into action and trying to grab what Amy now realised was a syringe from Ester. "Stop!"

"Sir, everything is fine."

"Doctor, what's she doing?" Amy asked, quivering. By this time Ester had removed the needle and carefully threw it in a bio-waste bin.

"There we go, sir, all done. See, there was nothing to worry about at all. It's natural to get last minute nerves, I know, I've seen it enough times. This is a life changing decision after all."

The Doctor merely stood in the middle of the room; stunned and white as a sheet.

"Doctor?" Amy hissed again. "What's she done? What's wrong?"

"Now, assuming that you were in the right stage of your cycle," Ester continued, bustling around her cabinets, "You should be successful."

"Hang on" the flame-haired girl said as she lifted a finger, the pieces dropping into place, "My _cycle_?"

"Yes, your menstrual cycle. You did book the appointment for an appropriate date, didn't you? Mrs Harper? Mr Harper?"

It was Amy's turn to pale as she realised the implications of what had just occurred. A hand unconsciously went to her stomach. Just at that point the Doctor started moving again.

"No, no, she is not pregnant," he stated, fiercely, "You're already on your…you know…period. You said." Silently, Amy shook her head. The Doctor threw his head back and placed both of his hands around his neck, clasping them together. "Oh, Amy, that was my only possibility!" He tapped his feet rapidly on the floor before spinning to brandish a finger at Ester. "You can undo this, can't you?"

"Er…" The poor woman looked very perplexed. "The idea of the Acorn Clinic is to create life, not to take it away. We help people who want to conceive a child."

The Doctor threw his hands in the air, wildly. "We didn't _want _to conceive a child!"

"Then why are you here? You are the Harpers, aren't you?"

"No!" the Time Lord admitted; he was practically bellowing in Ester's face. A shocked expression crossed her pretty features as he abruptly backed away from her looking completely and utterly defeated. "We were just….playing along," he murmured, softly, running frenetic fingers through his hair. "Just pretending….no, no, no this can't be happening."

"So if you're not the Harpers then who are you?" Ester asked, hotly. "Because I think I'm going to have to call security."  
"Its fine. We're going. Yes…going."

With a blank face, the Doctor strode over to Amy – who was still frozen on the spot - and grabbed her hand, pulling her towards the door. Together, the tumbled into the corridor and made their way back to the TARDIS. They both shared the same rather shell-shocked expression as they stumbled over the threshold of the time machine and into the main control room. For a few moments neither of them spoke; they merely stood in silence. Neither of them could quite believe what had happened in the ten minutes or so they'd been in that clinic. Stunned was an understatement.

Suddenly, Amy felt strong fingers encase her slender wrist once more and pull her – unnecessarily roughly, in her opinion – down the steps on one side of the control room.

"Where are we-?"

"The medical bay," was the Doctor's blunt answer.

"Right. Am I, you know, gonna be okay?"

She didn't receive a reply. Glancing at her companion, she registered the almost tangible determination emanating from his blue-green eyes and the firm set of his angular jaw. She wondered what was going on in his head but, honestly, she could not even begin to fathom because she had no idea how complex a Time Lord's brain was. Really, she wanted to ask him; she wanted him to talk. It was rather frightening when he was silent. Usually words just spewed from his mouth, even in the tensest situations and the most inappropriate times. They matched each other in that respect.

"Doctor, you're scaring me a bit," Amy finally admitted just as he wrenched open a door and manhandled her inside.

"You'll be fine," he replied in a way that really didn't convince her in the slightest. In fact, it just made her even more nervous, especially as there was a slightly manic glint in his eyes. "Now, if you'll just sit on here."

He placed her, firmly, on a rather futuristic looking hospital bed that was surrounded by an array of weird and wonderful machinery. She guessed it was another place that he liked to hoard things. There were colourful winding tubes and shiny monitors and odd little gadgets with aerials sticking off them. There was a large array of instruments lining the walls and Amy found herself frowning slightly as she tried to work out what they were for. An object that looked like a cross between a spanner and a toothbrush really took her interest.

So preoccupied was Amy with the medical bay's rich variety of tools that she didn't even notice what the Doctor was doing until he was coming towards her with a big needle.

"_What _are you doing?" she yelped, her eyes widening with fear as she scrambled up the bed away from him. "Doctor?"

He exhaled deeply. "Relax, Amy, it won't hurt a bit. Well maybe a bit but…"

"What will it do?"

"It will destroy the cells before they have time to replicate and form an embryo," he stated, calmly. "No harm done."

"No harm done?" Amy found her voice rising in pitch as she rolled off the bed and onto the floor. "What the _hell_, Doctor? You can't be serious?" She looked into his eyes; he looked pretty serious. "No. No way. You're not killing the baby! You're not killing my baby." She paused, glaring at him because she had never believed him capable of this. "_Our _baby."

He froze, mid-step, his jaw falling open just a little bit. The needle still sat in his outstretched hand and Amy eyed it warily, determined that it would come nowhere _near _her or her baby. She couldn't believe he was considering killing this child. The Doctor never _killed_ so what the hell was all this about? Questioning eyes sought his and, suddenly, she felt her heart go out to him as she saw the mask slip to reveal the pain and fear and anger swimming there. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed heavily and turned away from her. Now, he just looked ashamed.

"It's a collection of cells," he whispered with his back to her, "Not even that. Just two. Two tiny gametes."

"It's still a life. It still has _potential_," Amy replied, vehemently.

The Doctor didn't reply for a moment and she observed the stiffness with which he was holding himself. "Amy, you don't want this baby. It was a misunderstanding. An accident and it can be rectified."

"You're wrong, Doctor. I _do _want this baby and most babies are accidents so that's not even a valid argument. Besides, who are you to tell me what I want?" She finished with quite an edge to her tone, hands crossed protectively over her abdomen.

"It's half of me and it _really _shouldn't be. It should be half of Rory. No child should be brought into the world in such a way. Such an artificial, unwanted, unplanned way." The Doctor spun to face her now, his expression solemn. He took a step towards her but stopped when he saw her instinctively pull away. He sighed. "Amy Pond, can you honestly tell me that when you woke up this morning you were ready to be pregnant? And not only that but without _any _choice in the matter? With an alien nearly nine hundred years your senior?"

"An alien, nearly nine hundred years my senior, who has lost his whole race and is all alone in the world?" Amy corrected, calmly, "No, perhaps I wasn't ready but then no one ever is. I guess this isn't the most _conventional _method of having a child but I'm not about to deprive _you_ of all people of having someone to _love_ again."

The Doctor looked shocked. And Amy wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. His mouth hung slightly open as if he had been about to say something when the words just stuck in his throat. She didn't think she'd ever seen the Doctor truly speechless. And she had caused it. Crap.

"Doctor?" she whispered, softly.

He didn't reply and instead took a couple of shaky steps back before dropping down onto a hard, metal chair. The feet of the chair scraped noisily on the smooth floor as his weight pushed into it. The needle clattered to the ground. He placed his padded elbows on his bony knees and buried his face in his hands, the soft tendrils of his hair seeping between his fingers. Amy watched him carefully, her heart thudding loudly in her chest as she thought about what she was asking of him and herself.

It was insane; she knew it. But there was something inside her that was desperate for this to happen: to give the Doctor a child. He may not realise he needed it but she knew that he did. He needed something to tether him to this world, to give him something to live for. Perhaps then, he would not be so reckless when faced with dangerous situations. She couldn't cope with the lack of value he placed on his own life. It terrified her.

This was what he needed, she was certain of that.

"Doctor?" she spoke again, this time more firmly.

Gingerly, she walked over to him, stopping briefly to pick up the syringe and dispose of it in a nearby bin. The Doctor didn't even look up as she did this. Breathing in deeply, she crouched down beside him and placed a small hand on his upper arm, feeling the slight swell of his bicep beneath. The material was rough beneath the sensitive pads of her fingers, even more so as she stroked it comfortingly.

"Doctor, this is good. This is fine."

Doctor twitched, almost involuntarily, and then hissed, vehemently, into his hands, "No. Amy. This is in _no _way _good_!"

Abruptly, he lifted his head and caught her brown eyes in his; they were so intensely anguished that she unconsciously stepped back with a sharp intake of breath.

"But…"

"Look, I can't force you to…" He gulped, awkwardly, unable to finish his statement. "But I can't watch whilst you ruin your life. Can't you see, Amy, that this is completely wrong?"

"_Ruin _my life?" Amy retorted angrily, her eyes flashing. "How is having a _child _ruining my life?"

The Doctor stared at her, his expression grave. "Having _my _child will ruin your life."

"_You're _wrong!"

And with that Amy fled the medical bay. The Doctor let her go.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note **

**Thank you very much for the lovely reviews! They seriously will spur me on!**

* * *

Amy felt sick with the enormity of the situation. It was as if she just wanted to expel the angst and turmoil from her body in a physical way. Every direction her thoughts turned was wrought with ghastly images and ideas and outcomes. Vivid, nightmarish pictures of the Doctor's tortured face flashed through her mind every few seconds and she kept closing her eyes in an effort to make them go away. Her efforts were futile. The anger which had enveloped his voice reverberated through her skull, driving her insane with fear and upset.

She couldn't comprehend his anger and his actions. They made no sense to her. His reaction was unexpected and entirely horrible. Her insides twisted and squirmed in uncomfortable, impossible ways at the memory. Although this situation was completely shocking and unforeseen, she couldn't believe he was so callous about the child and about _her _and her feelings on the matter. He hadn't even consulted her before bringing out that massive needle – another terrifying image that would be seared into her brain – and if she hadn't realised his intentions then it would have been too late. That thought also nauseated her.

The man who had been in that room was certainly not her Doctor. Not the one she trusted implicitly with her life and those of the universe. He was some heartless imposter who thought nothing of killing a baby.

Breathing heavily, Amy dropped heavily onto her bed and stared, blankly, at the smooth blue wall in front of her, trying to lose herself in the calming colour. Unfortunately, her heart continued to hammer against her ribs and her breath hitched in her throat.

That's when she realised she was sobbing.

She was in shock. Reeling. The heightened emotions had overwhelmed her, flooding her thin frame until she could take no more. Exhausted, she curled up and fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

Amelia Pond awoke feeling angry and betrayed and for a moment she couldn't remember exactly why. That was until she registered her hand that rested protectively on her smooth abdomen and everything came rushing back with startling clarity. The Acorn Clinic….the nurse…the procedure…the Doctor's distress…the medical bay…her horror…

Her fingers tightened instinctively over her flat stomach and she took a deep, shuddering breath before unfurling from her foetal position. Long, slender legs dropped clumsily over the side of her large bed and she clambered gingerly to her feet, feeling slightly dizzy due to the amount of crying she'd been doing. Her emotions had really knocked the wind out of her. However, the sleep must have done her good as all the fear and worry seemed to have settled down now like the lull after a storm. They still bubbled uneasily but felt more controllable than before.

Quietly, she padded over to her en-suite bathroom and shed her crumpled clothes onto the floor before turning on the shower. It wasn't long before she stepped into the steaming jet of water, enjoying the warmth on her pallid skin. As she washed herself, she couldn't stop her hand occasionally drifting down to her stomach as she imagined the tiny life that was forming inside. She recalled the Doctor's words: 'It's just a collection of cells'. The mere memory of them struck her deep inside; it was painful to hear the unfeeling sentence coming from his mouth in his soft, familiar voice. Well, she knew he was wrong. This was a child; a _baby_. And it was already a human being in her eyes; who would have arms and legs and hair and even teeny tiny finger nails. The thought of losing that wrenched at her gut.

Once the shower was over, she stepped out and dried herself thoroughly with a fluffy white towel. It was strange that there always seemed to be fresh towels done and yet neither she nor the Doctor ever did any laundry or housework in general. She guessed she had the TARDIS to thank for that.

Slipping into some clean clothes, Amy reapplied her make-up and then checked herself one last time in the mirror. She looked calm, composed and in control….didn't she? Her eyes were a little puffy still, even after sleeping and the application of plenty of make-up but she looked as good as she could hope after the complete break down of last night. Mentally, she wasn't quite sure if she was ready to face the Doctor but she was damn sure going to try – she wasn't fiery and Scottish for nothing.

* * *

Indifferent.

That was the word that Amy would use to describe the Doctor as he looked up at her, vaguely, from the book he had his nose buried in and murmured, "Morning". She saw his eyes linger for a millisecond on her prominent black circles before dropping back down into the pages of the dusty old tome. Anger rumbled inside her but she held it at bay.

They were in the kitchen and so Amy casually sauntered over to one of the cabinets and pulled out a box of cereal. It was a box that wasn't native to Earth but she loved it because of the unusual fruity flavour and the fizzling feeling the crunchy bites left in her mouth. As she stared at the rainbow-themed packet, her mind wandered idly to the amount of E-numbers and other foreign numbers that would be in one spoonful. Surely, that wouldn't be beneficial for the baby? Immediately changing her mind, Amy pulled out another box that contained porridge sachets. Ah…that was more like it.

Humming, quietly, to herself, Amy busied herself with pouring the right amount of milk into a bowl, adding the porridge oats and placing the whole lot in the microwave. She was suddenly very much aware of the Doctor's eyes on her, following her actions. However, she didn't let that faze her as she waited for the ping of the microwave and then removed the piping hot bowl. It was so hot that she let out a little squeak and dropped the object with a loud smash. Shards of porcelain scattered around her bare feet and a dollop of scorching porridge landed on the bridge of her foot. She screeched in pain.

Instantly, she was aware of the Doctor at her side, lifting her away from the dangerous mess that she had created - and was currently hopping madly around in – to safety. She felt like a child, the way he whisked her out of harm's way and then proceeded to clear up the chaos _she _had caused. Momentarily, he paused to hand her a cold basin of water to place her scalded foot in before wordlessly tidying up the detritus on the floor.

Amy collapsed, dejectedly, into a chair and watched him work. Once he was done, he strode over to her and caught one of her feet in his strong hands. He twisted it in his grip and inspected her skin with an experienced eye before checking the other. Fortunately, she seemed to have escaped relatively unscathed, excluding the minor burn.

"Keep it in the water," he advised, speaking for the first time since his morning greeting.

She stared at him, incredulously. What was this? What was he doing? Fleetingly, she wondered if he was deliberately not talking to her in order to make some point or maybe it was a sick game and he wouldn't talk until she aborted the baby. However, she knew the Doctor would never sink that low so she could only assume that he had nothing _to _say to her now. Now that she had done this.

"You all right?"

Briefly, Amy wondered whether she had imagined him speaking but then she looked up and saw him watching her expectantly, waiting for an answer. "Er…yeah. I'm good. Just a little surprised."

A small smile captured his lips. "You made quite an impressive disaster out of a bowl of porridge."

"What can I say? I'm talented," Amy replied, smartly. This felt more normal.

"So, may I ask, what exactly made you branch out into the untested realms of porridge?"

Amy shrugged. "I didn't want the sugary muck I usually eat harming the baby."

Immediately, it was as if someone had switched a light off inside the Doctor. The sparkle in his blue eyes vanished and his lips morphed into a thin, tight line. Amy was aware that she had caused him to retreat back into his shell but she didn't care. These problems needed to be out in the open for them to get solved. That's what her Nan always used to say. So she watched him, closely, with steely eyes.

"Amy," he muttered, almost admonishingly and for the second time that morning Amy felt like a child who'd done something wrong. And yet she hadn't. She was the one being adult here; being mature enough to face the situation head on. Her temporarily tamed anger rattled its cage a little harder.

"What?" she asked, sharply, "I'm the one actually acknowledging the truth here. You're just avoiding it."

The Doctor cocked his head, his fringe falling over his eyes slightly. "I'm not avoiding the truth, Amelia," he paused, "I'm just waiting."

"For what?" A frown creased her features.

"For you to realise that this isn't the future you want," the Doctor replied, frankly.

And that was when the anger broke its chains and escaped, crashing from its prison like a rampaging rhino.

"I can't believe you! _I cannot believe you_!" Her voice was fierce and unwavering – unlike yesterday – as she stood her ground. He may be a Time Lord and he may be intimidating but she was not to be swayed. "I've made my decision: I _want _this baby. I don't give a flying rat's arse about how it came to be and, to be honest, I don't care that it goes against what you believe to be 'right and proper'. This is my body and this is what I want. If you don't want the baby then…then…. chuck me out but don't believe you'll persuade me to _kill _it."

When Amy finished her whole frame was trembling and her heart was thundering in her chest. Tendrils of russet hair had flown onto her pale, oval face, framing it like a lion's mane. She was vaguely aware of the scale of the ultimatum she'd given him but she tried not to think about it. Tensely, she waited for his reply.

Rubbing a hand over his jaw, the Doctor contemplated her with intense blue eyes. He observed the way she quivered with nervous energy in front of him and the passion that emanated from her whole body. He knew that no matter how much he believed what she wanted to be wrong, he could not throw Amy Pond from his TARDIS to be pregnant and alone in the world. And he also knew that even if did persuade her to have the abortion, she would never forgive him and it would ruin their friendship forever. Therefore what option did he have but to allow her what she was so adamant she wanted?

Feeling a heavy sense of dread settle in his stomach, the Doctor stared at his young, naïve companion and felt terrible for what he was about to say.

"Okay." His eyes were full of sadness.

"Okay what?" Amy snapped, warily.

The Doctor turned a little away from her, hating himself for his weakness, for his selfishness in not wanting to ruin their friendship. If he was a bigger man then he would make her have the abortion and then say goodbye. One day she would thank him. Instead, he took the coward's way out.

"Okay, you can have the baby and I won't say anymore about it."

"And you'll let me stay on the TARDIS?" Amy's eyes lit up with delight.

He nodded. "Yes."

"Oh, thank you!" She ran to him and threw her arms around his neck, burying her face into the shoulder of his tweed jacket. "You won't regret this. Not ever. Trust me."

The Doctor stroked her hair lightly and tried to ignore the feeling of guilt seeping into every cell in his body.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note - Haven't updated in awhile. Just fancied writing a bit more. Quite angsty this chapter. Promise some fluff to come but I want a balance! :D Please review!**

Green eyes snapped open abruptly as her stomach jerked like a twisting fish caught on a line and she let out a groan thick with sleep. Battling to escape from her white cocoon of soft duvets, she tried to keep down the acidic ball of sick that seemed to be gradually forcing its way up her oesophagus. She burst from her nest and struggled out of bed, tripping over a loose blanket that captured her ankle like a tenacious vine. She almost vomited there and then but, somehow, she kept her mouth clamped shut and completely covered it with a pale, slightly freckled hand – just to be on the safe side.

The burning in her throat was getting worse and she only just made it across the room to the bathroom before she threw herself at the foot of the toilet and promptly vomited up her guts. Acid liquid swamped her nose and mouth and she found herself almost choking on the stinging, lumpy fluid. Her eyes streamed in pain. Each time she retched, her whole body convulsed like she'd been zapped with a live wire. She was as rigid as an archer's bow one moment before collapsing into a sweaty lifeless heap the next.

She just wanted to die. The world was spinning. She was so hot. Small whimpers of desperation escaped her searing throat.

And then she was no longer alone in her agony. Cool hands caught the sticky tendrils of her flaming red hair and pulled them out of harm's way. The brush of fingertips on the nape of her neck was unbelievably comforting; as was the gentle rubbing of her back. She could feel the low temperature of his hand through the thin layer of her flannel pyjamas and couldn't help but revel in the relief they brought her. His general presence was a source of comfort and security. He was there. He was looking after her.

When it seemed the endless retching had come to a natural halt, she leant back against his chest – felt the steady thrum of his two hearts - and closed her eyes. He placed a smooth palm on her clammy forehead, cooling her down.

"How are you feeling, Pond?"

"Just swell," she murmured, sarcastically.

"On a scale of one to ten?"

"My throat is on fire and I feel like I'm dying a slow, painful death."

"Ten then?"

"Yes I'm a flippin' ten!" Amy growled, her eyes still closed.

The Doctor hummed amusedly in reply and then said, "I've got something that might help. It's alien, mind you."

"Anything! I'm willing to eat radioactive alien maggots if it'll get rid of this," Amy replied, earnestly.

She cracked her eyes open slightly and looked up, meeting his blue gaze. A thin smile curved his lips. It didn't quite reach his eyes. She knew he hated this…what she was doing. How she was 'ruining' her life, as he had called it. Initially, she'd thought he'd be fine with it, after their agreement to let her stay on the TARDIS. For the first few days she'd been exuberant, dancing around the time ship like a chocolate-filled child on Christmas day and babbling about babies and kids and the future. At the time she hadn't registered his detachment, his melancholy. It wasn't until she stopped her excited rampage and looked into his eyes that she saw the deep, unfiltered sadness lurking there. He could plaster smiles on his face but they were never genuine. Not any more. And that cut Amy deep inside. Each faux-smile added a tiny fissure to her already battered heart. He _really, really _didn't want this to happen. He really didn't want her baby.

When they'd visited planets and jumped through time, he hadn't shown any concern for the slowly growing foetus in her uterus. Of course, he still cared immensely about her but the baby just didn't seem to feature on his radar. She just couldn't understand it. His coldness. When she had been kidnapped by a Machiavellian race of Riderhogs – two headed hedgehogs with poisonous spines and a fatal bite – he had been beside himself with worry about her but hadn't once mentioned the child. That had truly upset her. She desperately wanted him to care; to take the unborn infant under the massive umbrella of kindness and protectiveness that he seemed to extend to _everyone_ else in the universe. What did he have against it?

He acted as normally as if it didn't exist; as if by denying its presence he could make it vanish. He probably wouldn't even acknowledge this sickness was linked to her pregnancy at all. She was six weeks along now.

"Well, it's not radioactive but I can't promise it's not made of space bugs," he said, inspecting the corked bottle of fluorescent blue liquid. "It's been in the medical bay for awhile. I'm not _entirely _sure where it originally came from but I'm sure its fine."

Amy arched an eyebrow. "It looks like my aunt's infamous Shannon Cocktail that she used to make for dinner parties."

"Ah, but this is meant to alleviate sickness. Not cause it," the Doctor replied with a smirk, thrusting the bottle at her. "Drink it, Pond."

"Yes, sir." Amy managed to muster the energy to salute before plucking the medicine from his grip with shaky fingers. She almost dropped it as she tried to uncork it.

"Hey, hey, _watch _it," the Doctor said, "You'll spill it all over the shop." He swiftly caught her hand in his own and his eyes widened. "Cor, you're shaking like a leaf." Concern darkened his expression.

"Must be low blood sugar. You know, what with the greedy sprog nicking all my nutrients," Amy replied, patting her abdomen fondly. She didn't miss the Doctor's frown. "In fact, I'm pretty hungry. Do you reckon the TARDIS will make me a bacon butty or do you think I'll have to drag my sorry corpse to the kitchen and make it myself?"

The Doctor cocked his head. "Was that a subtle hint?"

"What on earth do you mean?" Amy said, innocently.

"I'll have one bacon butty made for the lady in a jiffy."

The Doctor gently extricated himself from beneath Amy and clambered to his feet before adjusting his jacket so it wasn't so wrinkled up. The loss of his warm presence left Amy feeling a little forlorn but she didn't say anything.

"You going to be okay on your own, Pond? Or do you want me to haul your 'sorry corpse' to bed?" He grinned, cheekily.

"Oi," she reprimanded quickly, pointing a finger at him. Her pretty features sharpened. "I'm the only one allowed to liken my body to a dead person, got it?"

"Okay, well I'm not going to argue with a hormonal pregnant woman." He held up his hands up in mock surrender.

Amy froze mid-retort when she realised what he'd said. Her green eyes widened with shock. He'd _acknowledged_ her pregnancy. For a few long seconds she just sat, gaping like a stunned fish, not quite believing her ears. However, when she looked up again the Doctor had vanished. She was alone in the bathroom. The cold, hard tiles were suddenly uncomfortably firm against her soft knees. Her heart thudded dully in her chest. What did this mean?

* * *

Feeling much better than she had just ten minutes ago, Amy stepped out of the shower and brushed her damp hair from her face as she inspected her reflection in the mirror. She looked a little pasty still – but that could just be her natural Scottish complexion – and there were dark circles ringing her eyes, mingling with her streaked mascara and making her look a little like a panda. Rummaging around for her make up wipes, she had time to clean her blackened eyes before the Doctor rapped on the door and called out.

"Pond, I've got a bacon sandwich with your name written on it," he shouted, "Quite literally, in fact, I was a little squirt-happy with the ketchup!"

Amy couldn't help the giggle that escaped her lips at his ridiculousness. She padded over to the door and unlocked it.

"Have I ever told you that you're a wee bit bonkers?" she said, bluntly, slipping out of the bathroom in just her blue fluffy towel. Strangely, it pleased her to see the Doctor leap back in surprise and blink rapidly, looking away so quickly that she reckoned she heard the vertebrae in his neck crack.

"Er…Pond, you are aware of your state of undress, aren't you?"

"I've got nothing to hide," she shrugged, nonchalantly, taking the plate of bacon sandwiches from him. The meaty aroma reached her nostrils and she inhaled almost reverently, feeling her taste buds tingling in anticipation. "Aw…loving the smiley face."

She grinned as she looked down at the red cartoon smile and the sloppy handwriting that spelled out her name. A child could have done it. Well, she guessed the Doctor kind of was a kid at heart. Looking up at him she saw he was still flushing madly, an angry red blossom spreading up his neck and onto his cheeks.

"Oh god," she said, biting into the crispy, salty bacon and the soft bread, "That's gorgeous!" Her face melted into pure bliss. "Bacon is _god_!"

"Well, you'd be surprised," the Doctor said, cryptically, snapping from his stupor. "Now, Amelia, before you eat the rest of that, why don't you put some clothes on?"

He danced over to her wardrobe and began rifling through, throwing garments all over the place. While his head was buried in the forest of colourful clothes, Amelia polished off her sandwich in a few massive bites and then dropped her plate on the side. Casually, she wandered over to him.

"Do you think my belly's growing?" Amy asked, standing side on and rubbing her stomach.

The Doctor backed out of the wardrobe, abruptly, his head snapping up as he affected the look of a startled meerkat. The bounce of his hair – that seemed to have a life of its own – would have been amusing if Amy wasn't so focused on drawing him off the isolated pregnancy-free island that he seemed to have secreted himself away on. She needed him back. The _baby_ needed him back. She would swim through shark-infested waters and battle swash-buckling pirates in order to get him to return to her.

"Wh-what?" he blinked.

"My belly. Is it growing?" Amy pressed on determinedly. "I mean, I'm what…six weeks and I _really _feel like I've put a few inches on." She plucked at her flesh through her towel. "Hey, shouldn't I be having some kind of scan soon? Isn't it six weeks for the first ultrasound?"

"I….er….yeah, I guess." The Doctor scratched the back of head, looking incredibly awkward. Almost like a school boy who'd been asked whether he knew what a girl's private parts were called. "Um…"

Amy scowled, fed up of this dance they were doing. "So, will you be able to do it on the TARDIS or should be schedule a stop off somewhere at a hospital?"

"I….um….I guess I can….in the TARDIS….yes." He paused and seemed to recall something. A flicker of emotion passed through his blue eyes. "Done it before I guess," he murmured. Amy didn't miss that.

"Okay then, shall I meet you in the medical bay in say…ten minutes?"

"Yeah…."

"Good. Great. See you in a bit. Now shove off!"

She pushed the shell-shocked man from her room. Once he had a gone a small smile crept onto her lips. Perhaps, slowly, she would win him round. After all, once he saw the ultrasound he could hardly be in denial anymore, could he?

* * *

He was in denial.

He _had _to be.

He'd produced a very futuristic looking scanning device which Amy certainly hadn't seen used in the likes of _Casualty _or _Holby City _and then asked her to pull her top up. Then he'd ran the transducer over her flat stomach and proceeded to stare at the screen for a good few minutes without saying a word. Amy had waited with baited breath. The baby had to be okay. She had done a pregnancy test a couple of weeks in just to make sure that she was _definitely _up the duff and it had been positive. There was no doubt that she had a teeny, tiny baby growing inside of her but would it still be there now? Her stomach dropped at the thought and she felt her nerves quiver in anticipation.

"There," he whooshed, his sharp eyes picking out the foetus, "That little bean there is the foetus. It seems to be growing…nicely."

"Wow," Amy breathed, leaning over to stare intently at the picture, "It's so wee! I mean _look _at it. Look! That can hardly be a baby can it? Gosh. So little! Oh, Doctor, isn't it amazing?"

"Yes. Quite."

The Doctor looked rather nonplussed which is why Amy assumed that he must still be in denial. No one could look at their baby and feel _nothing_, could they?

"Does it have two heart beats?" she asked, eagerly, desperately trying to engage him and make him see how special this moment was.

Deep frown lines creased his forehead. "Um…it does seem to. Yes."

"Wow. So we really _are _having a baby together. Seems surreal, doesn't it?"

"Does it?" His tone was dull and Amy wanted to smack him.

Well, she was never one to hold back so, with a resounding _thwack_, she slapped him hard across the face. Her eyes flashed, hot and angry, as she knocked his hand away from her belly and flung herself off the bed. The muscle in her jaw jumped like a worm on hot tiles, wriggling and jiving. The stunned look in the Doctor's eyes and his rapidly reddening cheek didn't even deter her.

"Will you _stop _being such an unemotional _prat_?" Amy yelled. "What the hell is _wrong _with you?" She poked him. "You! The man – the _alien _– who can never help but see wonders where everyone else sees monsters." She jabbed him once more and he reeled backwards, eyebrows shooting into his hairline. "_You_! The man who won't see a child cry! You! You stupid, _stupid_ fool whose penchant for 'acting the part' _caused _this to happen! I don't understand why you seem to blame _me_!"

She threw her arms in the air, beside herself with fury, as tears trickled down her pale cheeks.

Silence followed and then, quietly, no more than a whisper,"I can't deal with this anymore, Doctor. Explain to me what I have done wrong. Explain to me what the _baby_ has done wrong to deserve this…this coldness?"

**Please review?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note - Okay, wow, I haven't updated this in ages. Sorry for leaving you in the lurch but, you know, exams gotta take precedence and all that jazz. I can't spend my life writing (as much as I would love to).**

**Um, I know I promised fluff but I lied. This chapter is pretty damned angsty so I'm sorry in advance. I hope you enjoy it anyway and hang in there. **

He stared at her. Beautiful, amazing, _incredibly_ stubborn Amelia Pond. With her lion's mane of flaming red curls and her flushed cheeks and flashing green eyes; like two emeralds caught in a lightning storm. She squared up to him like a wrestler ready for a match, puffing out her slight frame and rolling her shoulders. Her midriff was still partially exposed beneath her t-shirt, wet with sticky gel. The transducer he'd been using to scan the baby hung limply in his hand.

The guilt he felt was immense. It pressed inside him like a leaden weight. His entire body ached with remorse for what Amelia was going through; what he was _allowing _her to go through. First of all he'd failed her by allowing her to get pregnant in the first place. Then he'd failed her by not forcing her to abort the foetus. And now he was failing her and hurting her intensely, by not engaging with her at all. He _knew_ he was acting differently. He _knew_ he seemed distant but he just couldn't help it. No matter how hard he tried he could not connect with this child growing steadily in Amy's womb. Mainly because he knew it was going to ruin Amelia's life before she even had a chance to live properly. She would be burdened for eternity with the curse of having spawned a child of a Time Lord. She didn't deserve that. Definitely not. Not when she could lead a happy, normal existence with Rory. If she had his baby she would be tied to this life with him forever with no escape.

Another reason he couldn't connect with the infant was because he'd already done _this_. The baby thing. The child thing. Hell, he'd been a _grandfather_. That chapter of his life was over. A chapter that had ended in unbearable tragedy. A tragedy that consumed his nightmares.

And even if he began to love this baby only to lose it like all the others….well, such a loss would probably finish him once and for all.

Such a thought sent his hearts shuddering.

His raw emotions must have shown on his face because Amy's rigid posture softened; the tension dissipating from her. Her expression became sympathetic and slightly questioning as she took a tentative step towards him. However, he only just managed to hold himself still and not back away like a wounded animal, shying from approaching danger. He didn't want to discuss this with her, she already had enough on her plate without dealing with the dark, swirling emotions that haunted the blackest recesses of his mind. Judging by the look on her face, though, she would be demanding answers. So, the Doctor did what came naturally to him: he swiftly put up his shields and initiated his defence weapons in the only way he knew how.

"That was quite a slap, Pond. I'll give you that. Gosh, I think I'm gonna have a hand print mark. But what's this nonsense about coldness?" he repeated, cocking his head questioningly. She froze mid-step, obviously startled by his snap back to reality.

"_Your _coldness."

"I don't think I know what you mean?" He affected his best baffled look.

Amy frowned, uncertain. "You know…not acknowledging that I'm pregnant. Not looking out for the baby. Being all sad and that."

"Sad and that? I assure you, Pond, I'm far from sad. In fact, I'm rather happy that both you and the little bean are doing remarkably well, all things considering." He forced a sparkle into his eyes and clapped his hands together. "Now, come on, come on. All this stressing is not good for the little one. Why don't you hop back on the bed and we can have one last look at him or her before switching the scanner off?"

He began guiding her back to the plastic sheets of the medical bay bed. Strangely, Amy didn't protest. She kept quiet, silently musing over his sudden change in demeanour. He seemed like his normal self. If she hadn't seen how utterly depressed and troubled he'd been in the last few weeks then she might have almost believed the transformation. As it was…she certainly didn't.

"Now, park your backside there, Pond." He pushed her gently down. "And we'll have a gander at the bean again. Sound good?"

A deep furrow formed between Amy's eyebrows but she said nothing, merely scrutinised him intensely.

"Let's see." The Doctor adjusted the screen. "I suppose right now it looks a bit like a tadpole but its brain will be forming rapidly, all those neurones starting to fizz away, and its eyes are taking shape. It even has teeny, tiny nostrils! Look, if I zoom in a bit we can look at the face." He paused and stared at the screen. "Perhaps it looks a _bit_ like an alien right now but I assure you it will start looking more humanoid."

"Well, it is half alien, isn't it?" Amy interrupted.

The Doctor blinked. "Yes, yes, it certainly is," he finally agreed with an ear to ear grin. Amy's eyes narrowed, analysing the genuineness of the expression. Her inspection was inconclusive. The smile was either authentic or the Doctor was a very good faker. "But don't worry," he continued, "It should have the right amount of fingers, toes, bottoms etcetera."

Amy couldn't help but ask. "Er…is there an alien race that has more than one bottom?"

"Well, dear Pond, you'd be surprised." The Doctor shot her a disarming smile. She swore he'd grinned at her more times in the last minute than he had in the whole six weeks. "Now, I'll just mop you up." He set about the task at hand, deft fingers skimming her belly with a tissue.

Amy bit her lip. She felt odd, unbalanced. Her brain wasn't cooperating and therefore she was finding it near impossible to form a reaction to any of the Doctor's words or actions. Instead, she remained silent, studying him intensely in a vain attempt to see into his mind, to catch a glimpse of his well-guarded soul. It was a hopeless endeavour; his emotions were unreadable as a closed book and his hazel eyes as impenetrable as a stone fortress, shielding her from whatever troubles lurked in the furthest recesses of his formidable, if slightly flawed, brain.

And she desperately wanted to have it out with him, to get him to open up and pour his hearts out to her but she knew him – well, knew him to the extent that she had seen through the first few layers of his heavily-armoured identity, had found a few dents in the figurative chainmail that protected him from hurt – and even she knew that he was not the kind of man to offload his feelings. Besides, her first attempt to get him to open up had barely fazed him. His quick intelligence had fobbed her off and she knew she was nowhere near clever enough to beat him into submission, to force a confession out of him if he didn't want to give it. His defence was too strong. She lamented her humanness, her inadequacy in the face of his brilliance.

"What's with the face, Pond?" His deep voice caught her unawares and she flinched, blinking stupidly at him. His gentle smile slipped a little, a small 'v' inserting itself between his eyebrows.

"Oh….I, er…." she stammered and essentially failed to pluck up the courage to engage him once more in an emotional stand off. "I guess I'm just sad I don't get to see the baby until next time, you know?"

The Doctor seemed to consider her for a moment before nodding, either accepting her fairly reasonable response or letting it slide. She didn't know which was worse: that he barely knew when she was lying or that he didn't care enough to try and find out the real reason she was upset. Her heart stuttered.

"Well, you're more than welcome to come in here on your own and use the equipment, Pond. I'm not gonna stop you. You can have ultrasounds on demand. Benefits of having a fully kitted out medical bay, courtesy of my splendid TARDIS. Isn't that right dear girl?" He patted the wall.

Amy certainly didn't miss the 'on your own' part of the Doctor's reassurance and she found that was the only phrase she could hear, ringing continuously in her ears. _On your own, on your own, on your own_…. Her heart clenched along with the mantra, squeezing the blood painfully through her constricted vessels, making her feel nauseous and light-headed. She closed her eyes. The agony was almost too much to bear. Never before had she felt so completely alone in the world, so isolated, a desolate figure in a void, even though there was a living, breathing man standing right beside her. When she'd chosen to travel with the Doctor, she'd thought she'd never be lonely again because every time he grabbed her hand she felt a rush of togetherness, a rush of happiness and knew he would always be around to protect her. Now she could see thought that she'd obviously been wrong – and horribly naïve - to invest so much trust in the man who had left her time and time again. A man that seemed intent on hurting her and this baby.

Suddenly, she didn't want to be on the TARDIS anymore. She wanted to on Earth. She wanted home. She even wanted Rory. He had never left her; never would. But she could never return to that time, to that place….not with this baby growing inside her. She'd given it all up for this man, this alien man, who all of a sudden seemed _so_ _alien _and so detached. Good god, what had she done? She was stuck between a rock and a hard place and there was no way out.

A choked sob worked its way up her throat, threatening to burst forth but she willed it to remain inside her. It was a lump of emotion she didn't want the Doctor to see.

"Pond? You having a nap on my hospital bed? Because I can assure you that your bed would probably be a much more comfortable place to take a sneaky siesta."

Amy stood abruptly. She couldn't take his façade any longer. Not even meeting his eye she marched purposefully from the medical bay, tendrils of nausea still swirling in her stomach. It felt monumentally strange walking away from the man she cared so deeply for but she knew that if she stayed any longer then _she _would be hurt beyond repair.

"Amy?" he called after her. She ignored him, her stride didn't falter. "Amelia?"

Running footsteps. She didn't turn round. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. If he wasn't going to support her in this pregnancy then she was jolly well going to do it on her own. Her inner resolve hardened and strengthened at the thought; a pillar of determination in her otherwise shaking frame.

Strong fingers caught her upper arm causing her to shudder to an unwelcome stop. Forcibly, she held her body away from him, determined not to face him. Hot, angry tears were threatening to spill down her cheeks and she certainly didn't want him to see her crying. She could do this _alone_, without his help or support, she was strong, she could manage.

Realising that Amy wouldn't turn to look at him, the Doctor skirted around her in the corridor so they were standing face to face. Tentatively, he reached out and cupped her chin, tilting her head up so she would look him in the eye. However, she studiously averted her gaze, looking anywhere but at him. Struggling to comprehend what had upset her so much; the Doctor racked his brains for anything constructive, comforting or helpful to say. Nothing came to mind. His hearts clenched when he saw her red-rimmed eyes and her quivering lips. She was struggling desperately not to cry but she was fighting a losing battle. Several salty tears escaped their confines and made a bid for freedom down her pale cheeks. Seemingly angry, she wiped them roughly away with the back of her hand.

"I…." he began, awkwardly, "Have I done something to upset you, Amy?"

His eyes were imploring but she continued to evade their hazel depths, picking out a stain on the wall and staring at it, hard.

"Amelia, please?"

"No," Amy suddenly burst out, practically spitting. "You don't get to comfort me. Not now. I don't want your _fake_ compassion, okay?"

The Doctor's eyes widened and he released her chin like he'd been scalded. His mouth opened and closed as he struggled to say something, anything in return.

Amy glared at him, finally making eye contact. She had made a decision. It was a hard one but she felt like she didn't have another option.

"Just leave me the hell alone, Doctor. I can raise this baby on my own. Without _you_. In fact," she continued, her eyes burning with untold fury, "I want to go _home_. Take me back to Earth. Now. I can't stand to be on this damn spaceship any longer!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note - Sorry, another massive gap there. I hope you didn't mind too much. I'm currently revising for my A-levels so its taking up a lot of my time. Can't wait for Doctor Who though! Its so close! :D The adverts on tv are so exciting! **

Amy didn't think she'd ever been this angry in her life. She didn't think she was _capable_ of such hot, unbridled _fury_. Sure, she could put it down to her fluctuating hormones and lack of sleep but, right now, she couldn't think of her anger as anything other than completely justified. It was a molten emotion that coursed through her veins and consumed her heart, before cooling and hardening, making her usually warm, sensitive soul impenetrable. There was nothing that the Doctor could do or say now to change her mind. She'd given him a chance and he'd blown it.

Shooting him a venomous glare, Amy spun on her heel and stalked away.

"I'm going to pack!" she declared.

The Doctor watched her go for a few seconds, his mouth opening and closing uselessly. His mind whirred through a thousand possibilities a second of what to do next. And still he came up blank… even in his nine hundred years he'd never come up against a situation like this.

"I…Amy…wait…." he managed to form some words, hoping to stall her while his brain caught up with his mouth.

"Wait? Wait for what exactly?" Amy shouted, still facing away from him as she strode down the corridor, her long slender legs carrying her further and further away from him. "I'm _done _waiting, Doctor. I've _been _patient. I've _tried _to understand but I just _don't_, okay? It doesn't make any sense! So, yeah, I'm done waiting. Land this ship now and I'm off. _We're _off."

There was a final stomp as she rounded the corner and then she was gone, her flaming red head vanishing from sight. Suddenly, the passageway was deathly quiet.

"You can't….I can't…." The Doctor was left choking on his useless words. "I can't lose someone again."

The syllables echoed in the empty corridor and only the TARDIS hummed in response; a gentle, comforting hum. She understood. She'd lost them too. They were two survivors weighed down by the grief and heartbreak of losing so many people, so many friends and lovers and _children_. However, her whirring was tinged with something more. It took the Doctor a moment to place the emotion he could hear within her purring engines because it seemed so alien; so unexpected.

It was hope.

Slumping down against the wall, he closed his eyes and pressed his spine into the cool hardness in such a way that his vertebrae began to ache painfully. This ache was strangely satisfying though and it seemed to clarify his thoughts and sharpen the senses in his muggy brain. It was easier to communicate with his beloved time machine when he touched her like this and he sat and listened to what she had to say. Her gentle hum vibrated from the wall and through his entire being, entering through his skin and filling every cell in his body.

When she had finished, the Doctor opened his eyes with a gasp.

He was shocked, enlightened and moved all at the same time.

The hope that the TARDIS held in her heart was for change. A change in the life he'd been leading for so damn long. A life full of danger, lack of consequence, untold heroism but, equally, devastating loss; of monsters, villains, things that go bump in the night; of endless travelling, broken promises, fleeting meetings, fleeting friends.

And the sheer loneliness of it all.

She hoped that he would be brave enough and strong enough to forget his past, his losses, the excruciatingly painful grief because she believed that, although he put on a convincing façade, he was no longer happy. There was no longer a fire burning inside of him to live; no will to survive. He needed to rekindle that fire. And for that, he needed to change, to _love_ and care again without his detachment, his defences and his walls. He'd become aloof. Of course, he cared generally about people and the universe but he no longer cared intensely for _someone_; anyone. He didn't allow himself that luxury anymore because it hurt too much when things went wrong. And now he was alive without really _living_. He sought the danger and the excitement and the admiration from others in his adventures because that was the only thing that stimulated him, that made life vaguely worth sticking around for.

But he wasn't as young as he used to be. And he wasn't as naïve as he once was in thinking he was invincible, that he could live forever. He now knew it would all come to an end. One mistimed escape; one badly estimated jump; a wrong number in a calculation and that would be it. And the TARDIS didn't like that idea one little bit so she wanted him to change so he wasn't walking on a knife-edge anymore. She wanted him to care about his life, to value it, and the only way to do that was to make him see how much he was needed and valued by other people. By Amy and the child.

He realised he needed to be brave. He wasn't being a coward by letting Amy keep the baby. He was being a coward for wanting her to get rid of it. He didn't want to face his own demons; his own fears. This selfishness had almost cost him his friend and his baby. It still could.

He had to stop her.

* * *

The Doctor flew through Amy's bedroom door without knocking and promptly tripped over her suitcase, falling gracelessly to the floor with a sickening thud. He let out a moan as he lay in a twisted heap, looking like his limbs had just been knotted by a particularly sadistic sailor. Despite how angry she was at the man, Amy couldn't help the snort that escaped her.

Still groaning and rubbing his head, the Doctor unwound himself and then elbowed himself to his knees, blinking stupidly for a moment.

"That." He pointed at the offensive purple suitcase. "That there is just _one_ of the reasons why you shouldn't leave. Your suitcase will end incapacitating me."

"Oh _really_?"

"_Yes_, really," the Doctor replied, vehemently, as he tried to push himself to his feet. This attempt failed quite epically when his arms gave out and he found himself face down on the floor again, this time nursing a bashed chin. "Oww…"

"Looking pathetic and giving me puppy dog eyes won't work," Amy said, sharply, but there was less edge to her tone than there should have been.

"I know, I know!" The Time Lord settled for being on his knees considering how he could barely move without feeling rather dizzy and found it was an unusual position for him to be in: looking up to the person he was trying to win over. "Trust me, that wasn't my original plan but your death-trap of a suitcase scuppered me and now I can barely remember what my name is let alone what I was going to say!"

"Doctor…"

"Aha!" the Doctor interrupted, snapping his fingers, "I knew it began with a D!"

Amy put her hands on her hips and huffed with exasperation. "Doctor, I'm not really in the mood for this. If you're not gonna say anything meaningful or even _coherent _then you can just….just get lost."

Suddenly the Doctor seemed to come to his senses. His glassy eyes abruptly cleared and he stared intently at her, capturing her gaze in his in a way that almost took her breath away. She had to remember to use her lungs; to make the muscles around them contract.

"I'm sorry, Amy."

Then everything was quiet. All that Amy could hear was the rush of her own breath and the steady thump of her heart. It echoed in her head. _Thump. Thump. Thump. _She couldn't focus. Was this where she was meant to speak? She didn't know what to say. _Thump. Thump. Thump. _What did this mean? Did it mean _anything_? Was he actually apologising, for real, or was it just one of his fake apologies that were meant to console her, to calm her but were empty and shallow? _Thump. Thump. Thump. _She still didn't know what to say.

"Amelia?"

Strong fingers brushed against her cheek and she realised he'd managed to stand; stand so he was just inches away from her; their torsos almost touching. She could feel the moisture from his breath clouding the small gap between them, tantalisingly close to her smooth, freckled skin. Her heart stopped its thumping just as he pressed his forehead gently against hers. He felt so warm against her, against her skin. It reminded her of when she was a child and she used to stand close to the flames in the fireplace, trying to absorb every bit of their generous heat in the dead of winter. Her aunt would always pull her away at the last moment, afraid she would burn herself, but she always thought she could get closer, could get warmer. Little Amelia didn't think it would ever burn her but then she'd never got quite close enough to find out.

"What…." she began, "What are you saying sorry _for_?"

His shining eyes were so close. She thought that maybe if she looked hard enough she would see into his magnificent mind, see what he was really thinking. However, she found she didn't have to look very far to see the emotions swimming there, right on the surface. There was fear; there was pain, worry, regret, _love_… and _hope. _

"Sorry for everything, Amelia," the Doctor gushed and then paused, his nose scrunching up, "As rubbish and truly corny as that sounds!"

"Everything?"

"For hurting you mainly. For not being there for you. For being a coward. _So _many things that I've lost count. I'm just _sorry_."

"And the baby?"

"I…" The Doctor struggled on the words, his Adam's apple catching in his throat. "I still don't think it was _right _what happened but…" He quickly added the 'but' when he saw Amy begin to pull away. He caught the back of her neck with his hand, holding her forehead against his. "But it _has _happened and I shouldn't punish you or the little sprog inside you for merely _being_. And, with time, I think….I think we can make this right again."

"With time?" Amy whispered, her green eyes hammering into his.

"Yes, Amelia, that's all I can give you right now. Time."

Amy quirked an eyebrow. "Ironic."

"I thought so." The Doctor winked.

The levity of the moment was good. It felt right. It was a relief from all the heavy emotional stuff they'd both just experienced. It was the first step on the steep road of recovery and reconciliation. But now they were both in it together.

* * *

Admittedly, not a _great _deal had changed in the last six weeks since 'that moment' – as Amy had dubbed it - which was strange because she had been expecting everything to suddenly feel different what with the Doctor no longer ignoring the small creature growing inside her. However, she supposed until she actually started showing properly, there wasn't much reason for things to be different. Her belly had grown a little rounder but not by a lot, though her breasts were a little tender. The Doctor had informed her – with amusingly scarlet ears – that this was perfectly normal and she didn't need to worry. Her morning sickness had abated, thankfully, and she had begun craving sweet food all the time. One morning the Doctor had found her sitting at the kitchen table surrounded by Jaffa cakes (they were healthy, right? They had orange in!) and marshmallows (perhaps not so healthy) and strawberry cheesecake (okay, definitely not healthy).

"You having a party without me?" he said, blinking in surprise.

"Its breakfast," Amy replied, guiltily, wiping strawberry sauce from her lips.

"Hang on; its breakfast and you're eating that much sugar?" The Doctor's eyebrows shot into his hairline. "Oh ho, ho, you are _so _gonna regret that!"

"Right now, I don't really care," Amy retorted, sticking out her tongue before slapping his hand away when she saw him going for a marshmallow. "Hey, you don't get to lecture me and then eat my food! Get your own!"

And as for the relationship between them, well, it hadn't changed at all. Not that she could see anyway. He still treated her like his best friend; teasing her, hugging her, giving her excitable high-fives. And he still let her go on adventures but now he showed some concern for the small baby growing inside her. She wasn't completely certain but she felt like he linked his arm with hers more often and seemed less inclined to dash off, preferring to stick by her and steer her protectively with his hand in the small of her back. It was quite comforting to know he'd finally taken responsibility for the precious life. He even talked about it more freely.

Take now, for instance, at one of their ultrasound sessions.

"Ooh!" he yelped, excitedly, "Guess what?"

"What?"

"Sprog's eyes are moving from the side of his head to the middle of his face."

Amy frowned. "Wait? What? Weren't they there before?"

"No, they were on the side like…like a rabbit."

"Or an alien," Amy quipped.

"Or an alien," the Doctor agreed with a small grin, "But now they're in the middle and he looks human or Time Lord – considering we _did _come first."

"Well, it's nice to know it won't look like a complete freak but with your face, well, it was screwed from the start, wasn't it?"

"Oi! My face is interesting!"

"Interesting?" Amy spluttered, barely containing her laughter.

"Yes. Interesting."

"Whatever you say."

"Personally, I hope he'll have your hair."

"You _want _your kid to be ginger? Most parents wouldn't wish it on their worst enemy. When I was in Year 6, a boy told me he wouldn't go out with me 'cos he didn't want to 'ginger-up' his family."

The Doctor gaped. "Well, that boy was an idiot. Myself, I _love _gingers."

Amy froze but the Doctor didn't seem to find the moment at all meaningful or even awkward.

"I think he would be lucky to have your hair," the Doctor continued, blithely.

"Hey, why do you keep calling it a he? Do you know something?" Amy asked, suspiciously. Her eyes darted to the scan, as if she would see some evidence of gender. Unfortunately, she had no idea what to look for.

"Well, technically, I don't know but I have a feeling. I mean, Sprog's genitals haven't even formed fully yet. I could take a guess but I wouldn't want to give him a complex by proclaiming him a girl just cos he's not grown the jewels yet."

"Surely you could give _her _a complex if she _is _a girl?" Amy argued.

"Girls are less sensitive about this kind of thing. You wouldn't understand."

"Sexist, much?" Amy gaped at him, thumping him on the arm for his audacity.

"I was just joshing, Pond. I'll stop calling him a 'him' if you want. Though there's a name right there 'Josh'."

"No way!" Amy vetoed it immediately. "When can we find out the gender anyway?"

"Two weeks. My machine is a bit more sophisticated than those Earth models. We don't have to wait 'til the 18th week."

"Ooh, I'm so excited."

"Yeah, Pond, me too," the Doctor agreed.

Though he still couldn't quite shake the feeling that when they _did _find out the gender, would he be able to handle it? It would make it so much more real. He would have a son or a daughter. He and _Pond _would have a son or a daughter. Despite his playing with her and his gradual acceptance of the situation, he couldn't help feel terribly scared of the day when the baby was actually born. Would he look at it and see all faces of the dear children he had lost? Or would he see a completely new life? A new hope?

**Please review!**

**Ooh, and (virtual) prizes to anyone who can tell me which part of this chapter involved a reference to a very sweet interview in the Times with Matt Smith. :D**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note – Aha, went a bit bird happy with this chapter! :D Oops! But I love birds. They're so damn amazing. Ooh, and if you fancy, check out the **_**Scale-crested pygmy tyrant **_**on Google images. So cute! I want one. :D**

**Anyway, thanks very muchly for the reviews! They were extra lovely this time round and I'm glad to see so many new people reading! **

**Oh, and props to DrWhoLover815 who took an educated guess at the interview. You were right! Matt Smith said his **_**mum **_**said his face was interesting, not handsome, and he agreed. Aw. So self-depreciating and humble! Love him! **

* * *

"Look at _this_, Pond!"

The Doctor threw open the blue TARDIS doors.

Outside stretched a lush green jungle full of tall trees and hanging vines and splashes of vibrant colour displayed by bunches of beautiful flowers, some fiery: red, orange, fuchsia; others sharp shades of electric blue or ripe purples. Leaves, half-blocking the daylight, scattered intricate patterns of shadow across the earthy ground and shone emerald in the soft glow of the sun. Through the gaps in the branches, a clear sky could be seen, unblemished by clouds with only the sun – two suns! – burning intensely on its clean turquoise canvas.

Although the landscape was truly overwhelming, it was what was living, breathing and singing within it that truly took one's breath away. _Everywhere_ there were birds. Stunning, incredible, impossible birds. Perched elegantly in trees, fluttering on the leaf-strewn floor, flitting from branch to branch, as dainty as perfect little fairies and just as magical. They were as brightly coloured as their surroundings, painted with the colours of the rainbow, some that Amy recognised from nature programmes and others that were completely alien. And the cacophony they created was astounding. It probably should have been ugly. On Earth it would have been plain irritating to hear so many discordant sounds but here, wherever they were, in this paradise, the songs seemed to meld into a beautiful medley, almost as if some higher power was orchestrating the whole affair from the smallest _Scale-crested pygmy tyrant _to the largest blue and gold macaws.

And then there were the massive Keel-billed toucans! And more macaws, like the ones you saw pictures of as a kid in nature books; red with rainbow tails. And noble kingfishers and more parrots – some with scarlet wings, some with fierce blue beaks - and a strange looking multi-coloured turkey creature that was waddling around on the leaf-litter with a trail of baby turkey-things.

"Wowza," Amy gaped, "That's a helluva lot of birds."

"Yes. Indeed," the Doctor agreed with a massive grin and a clap of his hands. "Welcome to the largest bird sanctuary in the universe, Aviarus, 6.28 x 1010 square kilometres of tropical rainforests, grasslands, muddy estuaries and seaside spots all specially crafted to house pretty much every single bird you've ever heard of…and some you haven't!" He shot her a gleeful look, like a child who'd just been told the holidays had come early.

"So….its a _planet _that's essentially like….a _bird safari_?"

"Well…" the Doctor ruminated for a moment before conceding with a nod, "I suppose yes, you could call it that. Though I think the owner, a Sir Oliver Bird – an old chum of mine, you know, we met on a bird-watching course, who could have known twenty years later he'd own a planet and fill it with birds…."

"Doctor, is this going somewhere?" Amy asked, watching as the man gradually lost himself in his memories.

The Doctor clicked his fingers, abruptly. "Oh yes! Sorry! Got a bit sidetracked there. _Anyway_ ol' Birdy-Legs prefers the term _gardens_, bird gardens. A Jupiter-sized planet full of bird gardens. Sometimes you do have to wonder what the universe is coming to… but it _is_ in the top fifty tourist attractions in the universe in this era so it can't be too shoddy, eh?"

"The universe has top _tourist _attractions?" Amy asked and then realised that was a stupid question. If the Doctor said it did then it certainly did. His raised eyebrows and pointed look only supported her conclusion. Coughing, awkwardly, she moved on. "And why did you bring us here, exactly?"

The Doctor shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh, you know, I like birds; you like birds; there was a planet full of birdies just waiting to be explored…and I couldn't stand being cooped up with your moaning a second longer." He said the last part under his breath but Amy's ever sharp ears picked up on it.

"Oi! Watch it you!" She slapped him on the warm. "Who is the pregnant one here?" Her eyes were wide and meaningful as she asked the rhetorical question. "Oh yeah, wait, that would be me!" She pointed at her small bump as if it had just appeared out of thin air. "Would ya look at that? Small human. Inside me. Therefore I'm allowed to do as I jolly well please thank you very much."

The Doctor couldn't help himself. "Well actually, it's a small half-human. But…!" he continued, seeing what he had now dubbed 'her hormonal face' take over, "That is definitely not the point at all. On any level whatsoever. You know, I'll just shut up now. That would be a good idea, wouldn't it?" He mimed zipping his lips and offered her a contrite, puppy-dog expression.

"Ah, that's better. Now, we gonna look at these birds now we're here or what?"

* * *

"I think I'm birded out, Doctor," Amy yawned, plonking herself exhaustedly down on a bench that was made out of wood with an array of ornamental bird-figurines carved on top. She recognised one as a woodpecker.

"What?" the Doctor exclaimed, looking surprised, "Don't talk nonsense, Pond, we've only been to one tiny part of the rainforest section and the cliff exhibit. Oh, and the replica of the Grand Canyon was fun, wasn't it? With all those eagles! There are still so many places to go! The mud flats for one."

"My feet hurt and I'm tired," Amy replied, sourly, "I've had _enough_. Do I have to play the baby card again?"

"I wasn't aware you had a card," the Doctor teased.

"Yeah, well, I'm gonna make one. _And_ I'm gonna laminate it so you can't accidently drop it in a puddle."

"I would never!"

"You so would."

Amy stuck her tongue out at him but couldn't help but laugh when he put a hand over his hearts and did a dramatic swoon. The Doctor startled chortling too as he plopped down on the bench beside her. A couple of times they would stop laughing only to look at each other again and lose it all over again.

It felt so good to mess around like this after all the weeks of silence and distance she'd endured. She had her best friend back and she was never going to let him go again. She hadn't realised quite how much he meant to her, how big a hole in her heart he would leave, until she properly thought about stepping off the TARDIS, stepping out of his life and away from all he could offer her. In fact, she could've sworn it _physically _hurt, the idea of losing someone as special and passionate and genuinely amazing as the Doctor. He had been part of her life as long as she could remember and to not have him there would be heart-breaking.

And now she had him back and she never wanted to let go.

"Oh, ow!" Amy suddenly hissed, grabbing at her abdomen. Her features scrunched up in pain.

"Amy?" the Doctor said, putting a hand on her back, immediately concerned.

"Ow, ow, ow, it hurts."

Cold fear seized Amy's heart and she found she couldn't breathe for a moment. She had to force air back into her lungs, if only to make sure she didn't deprive the foetus of any oxygen it might desperately need. Absolutely terrified, she caught the Doctor's cool blue eyes in her green ones. She needed him to make it all better. To fix whatever was wrong. He could do that, right? He was a Doctor, an alien, a friggin' _Time Lord!_

"Doctor?" she whispered.

"What does it feel like?"

"_Pain_!" Amy glowered at him. "What the hell do you think it feels like?"

"No, what kind of pain?" As the Doctor spoke, he was leaning her back on the bench, his experienced hands carefully palpating her abdomen. Small frown marks marred his handsome face.

"I don't know. Pain tends to be all the same to me, you know, it's all kinda _painful_." Amy was verging on hysteria now; she couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

"Be _specific_, Amelia, I _need _you to be specific," the Doctor ordered, urgently, his cerulean eyes probing hers.

Hearing her heart thumping deafeningly in her ears, Amy managed, "It feels like my insides are all stretching and pulling and moving around."

"Oh, is that all," the Doctor sighed, shuffling away from her and running a relieved hand over his chin.

"What? What do you mean 'is that all'?" Amy felt anger bubbling inside her at his sudden change in demeanour. She had just had the crap scared out of her and she thought she could be losing the baby and he asked her _is that – bloody – all?_ Rising up of the bench like an avenging spirit with wild flaming red hair, Amy snarled, "What _exactly _does it take then, Doctor, for you to be worried about our baby's life? Did I have to be contorted in agony? Blood spewing all over the floor? My uterus coming out of my ears?"

"Well, that's just physiologically impossible, Pond, don't be silly."

"Do we _both_ have to be on the brink of death?"

"Now, Pond, I think you're just being a tad over-emotional. It's probably the hormones. I don't blame you in the slightest but…"

"I'm going back to the TARDIS," Amy growled, striding off in the direction they had come from. The birds were still twittering and hooting and cawing over head but now, rather than finding the sounds melodious, she found they only heightened her annoyance and detracted from her focus which was to get back to the time ship and check her baby hadn't died, because if the Doctor wasn't going to do it then she definitely was.

* * *

Bursting into the medical bay, Amy marched straight over to the ultrasound machine, dragging it with her as she threw herself onto the bed. Fortunately, everything was set up from the many previous times she had been on this bed so she could easily apply the gel to her slightly protruding stomach and switch the machine on. Carefully, like she'd seen the Doctor do many times before, she ran the transducer over her belly. Tears began to prick her eyes as she struggled to find what she was looking for. The lump in her throat grew so heavy and painful that she, yet again, found it difficult to breathe. Soon she was going to be hyperventilating. Her rib cage ratcheted up and down.

_Please. Please. Please. Oh god, no. _

She found a dark mass on the screen and it was….empty. The black, hollow space in front of her became her whole world. It was all she could see. All she could focus on. She'd lost it. The baby was gone.

Amelia Pond broke down. Massive, body-shuddering sobs wracked her wretched body and she felt the tears dig tracks that felt as deep as scars down her cheeks. _No. No. No. I can't…it can't….oh god…_

Suddenly she felt a hand on hers, taking the transducer from her trembling grip. She couldn't control her muscles anymore, they were contracting spasmodically but she didn't care. Rough fingers brushed the skin of her stomach and she felt herself flinch away, not wanting to acknowledge the truth of what had happened. She continued to cry, not bothering to look up at him through her curtain of russet hair that was now damp and salty with tears.

The familiar coldness and hardness of the end of the transducer as he pressed it gently into her abdomen only made Amy want to curl up and hide in a corner even more. She didn't want him to confirm what she already knew. The movement on her stomach paused, the transducer firmly dug into her skin.

"Amy." She heard his voice but couldn't bring herself to reply. "Amy. Amelia."

Strong fingers dipped beneath her waterfall of hair and caught her chin, lifting her face up so she couldn't look away, couldn't escape the sadness that would undoubtedly be in his deep blue eyes.

"You can stop crying, Amelia," the Doctor whispered, "It's fine. _He's _fine."

"No!" Amy batted his hand away, glaring at him now. How could he be so _cruel_? "I saw! There's nothing there! It's dead! Gone!" A fresh wave of tears assaulted her.

"You're wrong, Amy," the Doctor said, calmly, tenderly. "Look at the screen. Just look."

As much as she didn't want to look at her empty womb again as long as she lived, Amy couldn't help but turn her head a little at the Doctor's firm words. She almost looked away again before she'd properly seen but then something caught her eye. Something grainy and white and suspiciously baby-shaped. It couldn't be…. She barely wanted to believe her eyes in case she had it all wrong. Slowly, she lifted her gaze to the Doctor.

"See there, Pond," he smiled ever so gently at her and pointed at the screen, "That there is his little heart beat. Well, both his little heart beats. Just pumpin' away. And look, he's even giving you a wave. Hi there, little fella. You gave your mum quite a scare there, didn't ya?"

"But how? What?"

Giving her a vaguely amused look now that he knew he'd convinced her that the baby wasn't dead, the Doctor said, "You were giving your liver an ultrasound and as absolutely amazing and impossible as you are, Pond, I don't think even you could grow a foetus in your liver."

Amy just stared at him, dumbfounded, for a few moments. She couldn't believe she'd needlessly put herself through so much damn pain.

"And the pains I had earlier? What were they?" she asked, still a little breathless.

"That was completely normal. Little contractions, pulling, stretching sensations, they're all normal. It's merely your ligaments stretching and your organs – though perhaps not your liver…." He offered her a cheeky wink. "Moving to accommodate the rapidly growing sprog in there. There's not gonna be an awful lot of space in there when you finally drop the kid out."

"Such pleasant terminology for a doctor," Amy quipped, wrinkling her nose.

"Hey, I'll have you know that I never finished the course so technically I'm not a real doctor," the Doctor replied, defensively. "However, what I can tell you, with my frankly amazing genius brain, is that you, Miss Pond, are having a little bouncing baby boy." His eyes twinkled with a mixture of happiness and smugness. Amy knew exactly what he was smug about.

"Oh, I see, okay. Yes, you were right Mr Smarty-Pants, you had some sixth sense that knew it was a boy," Amy conceded but then paused as an idea suddenly struck her. "_Hang on_! You're a _Time _Lord!"

The Doctor raised his eyebrow. "I'm so, so glad we've finally agreed on that, Pond."

"No! You're a Lord _of Time_ so you could have just hoped forward in time when I wasn't looking and taken a sneaky peek at what I'm having."

"I certainly did not!" The Doctor looked very offended. Even his hair looked affronted as it bounced up in an aloof manner. "I can't mess around with my own time line. That would be bad. Very bad. On so many levels. It would result in something very not good happening involving reapers and no, just _no_."

"Oh, why not? Can't we both go and check to make sure the wee thing comes out looking all right at the other end?" Amy whined.

"By all right you mean?"

"Well, I certainly want to make sure he has one bottom."

"Well you can't."

Amy harrumphed. "Pfft, what's the point in having a baby with a Time Lord when you get none of the perks, eh?"

"Hmm…."

The Doctor's reply was noncommittal and an awkward silence fell over the two of them. Perhaps things were not quite as fine and dandy and normal as they were both trying to make out.

Amy, feeling that if she didn't break the tension she might explode, spoke first, "So, a wee boy then? Does that mean I get to call him Haggis? Or Hamish? Ooh! We could shorten it to Hammy! Or _Dougal_!" Her eyes lit up mischievously. "Definitely, Dougal. Then we could call him Doogie! You getting the Scottish vibe here? 'Cos in case you hadn't noticed, I'm really going for it!" She shot him a sly grin.

"Yep," the Doctor laughed, snapping out of whatever trance he'd been in, "Definitely getting the vibe. What about going the whole hog and calling him Jock like that Scottie Dog in _Lady and the Tramp_?"

"Hey! I draw the line at Disney character names!" Amy replied with a giggle. All traces of the tears that had earlier been carving lines down her face were gone. She felt buoyant, hopeful, again.

"Well then, I'll have to revise my list completely because, frankly, my whole list comprised of _Simba, Mickey, Gaston, Aladdin, Grumpy, Happy, Pluto…_hey! That could work! Space _and _Disney! My two favourite things!"

"No."

"_Goofy_?" the Doctor smirked. She didn't even grace his suggestion with a reply. "I'll take that as a definite no then. _Zazu? _No? Okay."

"Are you done?"

"Quite."

"Good because I'm going to study."

The Doctor looked quite taken aback. His eyebrows shot into his hairline. "Study? Study what?"

"Baby books."

"Why?"

"Um….maybe 'cos I'm about to plop one of these bad-boys outta my lady bits and I wanna be prepared. Considering I couldn't even tell my uterus from my liver, I think it's a wise move."

She couldn't help but grin slightly at the Doctor's nervous blink when she said lady bits. Did he not realise that the baby would have to come out of there eventually? They hadn't even discussed hospitals or giving birth anywhere else but the TARDIS so she'd naturally assumed he'd do it. However, if he couldn't even cope with the _phrase _'lady bits', then what was he going to do when he needed to be elbow deep in all the goop and grossness? She imagined it would be an amusing – if incredibly painful – experience.

"Hey, hey, hey!" the Doctor protested, immediately, "What are you on about? You have a bona-fide genius here and you're consulting baby books? Just ask me! I can tell you all the stuff those books leave out. For instance, did you know that a tar-like substance called Meconium which will make up the sprog's first ultra sticky baby poop, is now loading up in his teeny tiny intestines? It's a time bomb waiting to explode!" The Doctor's eyes glittered with amusement. "Oh! Or that his fingerprints develop merely from being in the amniotic fluid and swimming around? All the tiny ridges and swirls on his pads form randomly from his scooting around in there. That's why no one has the same fingerprints, even twins."

"Fascinating, Doctor," Amy replied, "Now, I'm going to find the library. You said it was in the pool right?"

"No, the pool is _in _the library, Pond."

"Yeah, like that makes _way _more sense than what I said," Amy retorted sarcastically.

* * *

**Okay! A little bit of angst but it was good angst, right? ;) No harm done. And we know he's a lickle boy now! Yay! **

**I hope you enjoyed the chapter. There was quite a lot of dialogue but I hope you liked it despite its dialogue-heaviness. Please review! **


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note - Thank you for all the lovely reviews! Just so you know, I don't know how long this story will be. Probably around ten-twelve chapters, depending on demand! :D I've been enjoying the new series of Doctor Who! I really like the dynamics of having more people in the TARDIS. I think its refreshing after this period of having just a female companion. I wish they'd keep River and Caston as well though. :) I'm finding it quite hard now to write without Rory as I def like him and I don't wanna be mean to him! Your opinions?**

**SPOILER! And what's with the Amy thing? Will she/won't she be? Man, I wish I knew! **

* * *

"Let's put eggs on our feet and scramble!"

"Did you read that off my cereal packet?"

"No."

"You so did."

"Did not!" the Doctor denied as he grabbed Amy's small, pale hand in his own and pulled her with him as he broke into a galloping run.

"Whoooa!" Amy yelped as she was lurched forward. "Watch it! Don't forget it's a pregnant person you're dragging around like a sack of potatoes not just the normal unsuspecting victim!"

She managed to keep pace with him for about a hundred metres before she started lagging. Her long legs were compensating for his considerable stride but soon she could feel a pain in her chest and her breaths began to become shorter and raspier. Wheezing like an ancient chain-smoker, she tried to tell the Doctor to slow down but all that came out was a squeaky whistle, as if someone was letting the air out of a balloon. Her lungs _felt_ like deflated balloons, inelastic and useless. Eventually she just had to stop, yanking her hand from his and halting in her tracks, skidding slightly on the rough dirt.

It took the Doctor several seconds to realise he'd lost his partner in crime and he stumbled to an inelegant stop, a cartoonish shocked expression on his face as he stared at the empty space beside him. Snapping round on the spot like a puppet with its strings twisted, he caught sight of Amy panting noisily several feet back.

"Amy! What are you doing?" he called, obviously flustered, hurrying back over to her. "We're being chased by those tentacle-y, purple…things!" He finished with a trademark flourish of his paroxysmal hands. "Now is _really _not the time for a rest stop. You can stop as soon as we get back to the TARDIS."

Amy gasped, managing to find enough oxygen for a few choice words that ended in, "I'm…done…flippin'…runnin'…Doctor. This…." _Wheeze. _"Is…" _Wheeze_. "The last…" _Wheeze_. "Time! Got it? No more…waddling away from danger! It's….humiliating….and…I look….like a disabled elephant."

"Yes, yes, of course, Pond," the Doctor replied, offhandedly, glancing over her shoulder into the distance. He obviously didn't like what he saw because he grabbed her bicep quite forcefully and began tugging her towards the safety of the TARDIS. As he steered her, he continued, quickly, urgently, "I promise you I'll find some nice sedate adventures in the future where we can just _walk_ _casually, _at our leisure, away from the dastardly – but very considerate - villains but, unfortunately…" He glanced worriedly over his shoulder again. "These particular bad guys….not so considerate. So, if we can just hurry this along a little."

"I'm going as fast as I can!"

"Well, it's not fast enough," the Doctor muttered with uncharacteristic concern toning his voice. "In fact, here we go, _ally-oop, _Miss Pond!" He caught her around the middle and lifted her effortlessly into his arms. She let out a squawk of surprise but before she could do anything to protest the Doctor was sprinting like an Olympic athlete across the scrubland and all she manage was to cling to him for dear life.

Moments later they burst across the TARDIS threshold in a tornado of angular limbs, wild hair and gasping breaths – well, the gasps were mainly on Amy's part, the Doctor seemed relatively unaffected. Gently, he set her down on the ground and dusted himself off. Then he gave her one glance up and down, nodded, seemingly satisfied with her condition and then hurried off towards the main console. Amy could only stand there like a slapped fish, her mouth fully open.

Eventually, she regained her senses and made her way up the stairs to where the Doctor was dancing around the control panel, flicking switches and twizzling twizzly-sticks. She crossed her arms and waited.

"Okaaay then…are we really gonna pretend like you didn't just pick me up like some macho superhero and whisk me off to safety as if I weighed ten pounds rather than – well, I haven't been on the scales recently, I don't think I could take it – let's just say something _much_ more? I mean I'm eighteen weeks pregnant!"

There was a moment's silence as the Doctor pulled the last lever and the TARDIS sprung into life, catapulting them away from the dangers of this latest planet.

Finally, he spoke, his expression solemn.

"I'm so sorry, Amelia." His blue eyes were full of apology. "It was silly of me. _Stupid _of me. I don't know _why_ I thought it was safe to take you out and put you in danger. You're completely right; you're in no condition to run. I'm just being so, so, so dumb!" At which point he slapped his hand, painfully loudly, on his forehead.

"Whoa! Calm down there, Doctor," Amy said, quickly, stepping in and catching his arm before he could do any more damage. She caught his gaze in hers. "I'm fine. I'm glad we went out. We helped those aliens didn't we? What were they called? The _Splidge-splodges_?"

"The _Splidods_."

"Yeah. Well, we helped them. It was just a shame that you got on the wrong side of those other guys, those octapussy things. We did a good thing, Doctor, and that's what we do, that's what I signed up for. I don't wanna change that just 'cos of the kid that's growing inside me and sitting on my bladder and ruining my figure." Amy poked miserably at her bulging stomach, running her fingers along the angry pink stretch marks that had already formed. She sighed. "So, yeah, it may be time for me to give up the running but wait 'til he's born, then we'll be straight back to it."

The Doctor stared at her for a good few minutes as neither of them spoke. He seemed to be considering his choice of words carefully and she just waited in awkward, uncomfortable anticipation, wondering what on earth was about to come out of his mouth.

"I don't think it'll ever go back to how it was, Amelia," he said, softly, a tinge of residual regret in his sea-blue eyes; not for himself but for the life she'd lost, the time she'd lost to be young and free and irresponsible. He still sometimes wondered if he'd made the right decision. If he'd done it, if he'd forced her to have the abortion, what would have happened? She probably never would have spoken to him again. She would have been hurt but she would have her life back. She would have Rory. He didn't even like to think about how much he'd messed up that poor young man's life along with Amelia's by falling into her garden all those years ago. How different would things be if that had never happened? He couldn't imagine.

Amy stared fearlessly back at him. She wasn't prepared for him to retreat again. She wouldn't allow it. There was no way she was allowing him to wallow in whatever the hell he'd been wallowing in before. She had just got him back; she wasn't about to lose him once more.

"Well, actually, maybe I don't _want_ it to go back to how things were. I mean, change is good right? Change is how we move forward, evolution and all that jazz. Without change the universe would still be in a…a box somewhere waiting to burst out."

The Doctor couldn't help it, he spluttered. "A _box_, Pond? What on earth are you talking about?"

"You know, the Big Bang…." Amy said, running a hand through her hair, "With the explosion and stuff."

"It didn't come out of a box though, it came out of a-"

"Ah, ah, ah!" Amy stopped him mid-lecture. "I don't want to know. I'm sticking with my box theory. Its simple and my physics teacher told me it and I'm standing by it."

The Doctor made an unintelligible noise that almost sounded like he was choking on his indignation. "Well your physics teacher was _rubbish_, then," he finally managed, arrogantly, "And if that's any indication of the foundations of your scientific knowledge then I think I should probably teach Sprog science."

"Be my guest, alien-geek."

"Or maybe you could study some science now that we're not going on any adventures," the Doctor suggested, brightly, "I mean, I could teach you. I'm sure I have a lecture hall somewhere in the TARDIS. If not, the library is perfectly adequate."

"You know what, I'd rather be being chased by those man-eating tentacle-things," Amy said and flounced away. She took a moment to throw over her shoulder. "Oh, by the way, call me when you've made supper."

"What?" the Doctor spluttered, "Who said anything about making you supper? Since when was that the deal? Amy? Amelia?" He called after her retreating back but she'd already vanished down one of the winding corridors. "Well, I hope you like sardines and strawberry jelly because _that's _what's on the menu!"

"Together?" came the distant reply.

"What do you think?"

* * *

After an interesting concoction of fish and strawberry dessert – Amy had hers separately; the Doctor scoffed his down all in one, much to her distaste – the pair had ended up in the television room which was rarely used but was well stocked with films from all years and all sorts of species. It was surprisingly well organised compared to the Doctor's usual disorganised style, which Amy had pointed out, only to be told that he didn't do it. She had wanted to ask who did but she didn't want to press too far.

The two of them had made themselves comfortable on the same sofa. The Doctor was sitting upright with his long legs sprawled out in front of him whilst Amy had propped herself against one arm of the chair with her feet on his lap. It was a very comfortable position, especially now her belly was getting quite big and she decided she didn't want to move for as long as she could help it. It was especially nice having the Doctor's company and she couldn't help enjoy the warmth of his laugh as he chortled at the funny parts in _Hot Fuzz _and she loved the odd little noises he kept making throughout _Homeward Bound_, especially when he thought that Shadow wasn't going to make it. She could have sworn he whimpered.

"So, Pond," he said, stretching his lanky arms above his head, "Shall we call it a night?"

"No," she whined, "I don't want to get up yet. Can we not watch another one? I think you'll like _Finding Nemo_, it's about this fish that gets separated from his father and his father does everything he can to get him back and…"

"Okay! Are you trying to make me cry here?" the Doctor asked with wide slightly shiny eyes, "Because I've only just recovered from that last one."

"It's really, really good, Doctor. Please?" She stuck out her bottom lip.

He sighed. "Fine. Fine. You win. If it makes you happy."

He went in search of the said movie and then slotted it into the disk player. As he sat back down, he lifted Amy's legs off the sofa and placed them back on his lap so they were in the same positions they were before. He understood it was how she felt most comfortable and he would do anything he could to make her happy. With a soft grunt, he settled himself against the cushions and yawned slightly.

"The Doctor, tired? I never thought I'd see the day!"

"It's a natural reaction to such a sleepy, warm environment," the Doctor replied in defence but was almost stopped by another yawn.

"Well, don't close your eyes just yet, sleepyhead. You have to watch this to appreciate how good it is." She nudged him with her foot.

"Okay, okay, I'm awake! Don't shoot!" he murmured holding his hands up half-heartedly but his eyelids were still drooping.

* * *

Several films later and they were still in the television room. Amy hadn't wanted to go to bed, despite the Doctor's best efforts to convince her, and so they were on their fifth film of the night. It was a trashy rom-com but as she watched, Amy couldn't help the feelings that had begun to stir inside of her. A tingling, aching sensation began low in her abdomen and at first she thought there could be something wrong with the baby but then – with a fair amount of surprise – she recognised the familiar feeling. It wasn't one she'd had in awhile, well, not since she'd started travelling with the Doctor, but she would know it anywhere. She was aroused. A flush of embarrassment passed through her and her cheeks felt hot. She felt certain that the Doctor, somehow, with his weird Time Lord senses would be able to tell that she was becoming aroused by him, but when she glanced over at him with her flaming cheeks, he looked oblivious, still staring at the screen as the female heroine kissed her man. The ache inside Amy grew stronger. It was becoming uncomfortable.

Did she excuse herself? Did she will it to go away? Did she _act _on it? I mean, geez, he was right _there_. Her feet were in his lap, so tantalisingly close to his... If she moved her feet gradually down his thigh….how would he react? Not really realising what she was doing, Amy carried out the actions that were going with her thoughts.

The Doctor had been dozing on and off. He couldn't deal with sitting still in such quiet rooms because this is what happened, this sleepiness. That's why he was always so up and busy. Then again, this hadn't actually happened in a long time. He rarely got tired. He was too alert, too wary of going to sleep, in fact, to close his eyes but here, in Amy Pond's company, he felt more relaxed and more peaceful than he had in a long time. He guessed a few winks wouldn't be too bad.

And that's when he felt the cool foot of his companion sliding down his inner thigh. He froze the moment he became aware of it, every muscle in his body was taut with tension, every cell was waiting in anticipation for what would happen next. Slowly, he turned his head slightly towards Amy and saw, out of the corner of his eye, that she was not asleep but was lying there looking a little bit pink in the face, her small tongue caught between her lips. Her eyes were focussed on the television screen but it was obvious her thoughts were _definitely _elsewhere. Oh no, he could not allow this to happen. As much as his body was reacting to her touch it could not happen; it shouldn't ever happen. Quickly, he drew up pictures in his mind: the Judoon, the Ood, the Sycorax… He began to regain his composure. He felt less flustered.

"Amy, I think that's enough for tonight. The baby needs you to rest." He slapped his hands on his friend's legs and lifted them off him and away from the danger zone before climbing to his feet. _Phew. Safe. _

Amy turned, surprised by his abrupt movement, and she sat up on the sofa. Her mouth opened as if to say something but she didn't know how to phrase it. Finally, she formed some words.

"Oh, no, Doctor, just to the end of this film. There's only ten minutes left. Then I _promise _its bed time for me."

The Doctor wasn't sure but there wasn't much he could say otherwise. Reluctantly, he sat back down. "Fine, just ten minutes."

However, as soon as he sat back down, he found Amy had elected to change her position completely and rather than lie back down with her feet towards him, she settled down beside him, tucked between him and the sofa back. The gulp that he had to perform at her proximity felt extremely loud and his Adam's apple seemed impossibly heavy and awkward in his throat.

Fortunately, it all seemed to be going well until the last two minutes of the film when Amy finally plucked up the courage to do something about the feelings mounting inside her belly. Tentatively, she tilted her head upwards.

"Doctor?" she whispered, softly.

"Yes?" he said, turning his own face to look down at her.

Immediately, seeing her opportunity, she closed the gap between their lips. Their mouths collided; hers excited, his surprised. For a second, she could have sworn he didn't protest and that he actually reciprocated and she revelled in the warm, slightly rough feeling of his lips...but then she was being pushed away. When contact between them broke she felt a devastating loss and, strangely, inexplicable anger.

"Amy! No! This is just hormones talking. They'll be going crazy inside you right now, having a party, but it doesn't mean anything."

"Its not hormones!" Amy replied, indignantly.

"It is! Trust me! And you'll regret this. It's not what you want. We are not doing _anything_." For emphasis, the Doctor flung himself to his feet and away from her. "I will not take advantage of you like this."

"Uh…Doctor, newsflash," Amy scowled, folding her arms, "I was the one leaping on you."

"No, it's my fault. It's entirely my fault. Look, go to bed, Pond. You'll thank me in the morning."

Amy climbed to her feet and shot him a contemptuous glare. "Not likely," she growled and then stormed from the room.

The Doctor remained, closing his eyes and covering his face with his hands. This should not be happening. _Why _was this happening?

**Sorry if it got a bit heated there! I have rated this a T so its allowed! :D REVIEW!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note – Hey there, thanks for the reviews! Loved them! I'm glad you're all enjoying my story. **

**Just so you know, I wrote the start of this chapter before I watched 'The Doctor's Wife' so it wasn't influenced by that in anyway. My TARDIS is different to that – not that I didn't enjoy a different side to her. Though what I didn't like were the horribly sparse, grey corridors of the TARDIS! I mean, I got all excited when I realised they were going to play hide and seek in the rest of the ship – I was practically jumping up and down going 'THIS IS SO EXCITING! WE'VE NEVER GOT TO GO PAST THE CONTROL ROOM!' – but then they bloody ruined it with those almost Dalek-like corridors. What was with the Dalek-esque knobs anyway? :/ Just so you know, my TARDIS is much more organic and exciting and full of colour and random rooms and exotic stuff from all over time and space….like it should be, dammit! **

**Aha, okay, rant over, on with the story. **

* * *

The residual awkwardness and tension, which had been palpable in the atmosphere the night before, still filled the silent corridors of the old, creaking time-ship in the morning. She hummed and whistled if only to fill the monumental void that seemed to have formed between her two occupants, as she drifted lazily through the swirling time vortex. There wasn't a lot she could do except wait and watch, hoping that they would both regain their senses sooner rather than later.

The Doctor was currently busying himself in the console room – over the years she had come to realise that when he was worried or confused, this was where he came, to think through his problems as he worked on fixing a loose circuit board here or a broken dial there. Right now, he had donned his rather fetching googly-goggles and was getting a bit flame-happy with his blow-torch. He would soon end up with a singed fringe if he wasn't careful. However, this was his way of coping and she knew she must leave him too it. In fact, it was young Amelia Pond that she was worried about. The human girl had been in her bedroom for hours crying – out of anger or embarrassment or the hurt of rejection, the TARDIS wasn't sure – and she seemed to have had a sleepless night. A couple of times the Doctor had tried to find her bedroom but that time-machine had hidden Amy's room, denying him access, because she knew that what Amy needed was space, not an uncomfortable, inexplicably socially-inept, alien Time Lord with a penchant for putting his massive booted foot in his mouth. She need time to calm down; to recover. The TARDIS understood that in a way that the Doctor never could.

Quietly, she continued her anxious vigil on the soft, vulnerable human girl - with the precious child growing inside her - and hoped that she would bounce back from this. In fact, she hoped she wouldn't give up.

* * *

Amy kept muttering darkly under her breath as she prowled around her bedroom, feeling her bare feet sink into the plush blue carpet. She couldn't stay still, she couldn't sleep, she couldn't do _anything_ other than pace. She felt like a live wire, full of energy and ready to zap anyone who came close. Fortunately, the Doctor had had the sense to stay away for now – she didn't think she could have faced him in this state, well, not if he didn't want a slap. She was so angry and annoyed and confused. Perhaps it was the hormones, perhaps it was just her unstable personality or perhaps the insane position she had found herself in but she just couldn't understand why the Doctor had turned her down. She was having his _baby_ for crying out loud! And it wasn't like she was bad to look at _or _bad company; she was bloody good company and he better not deny it! So why on earth did he not want her? They were two hot-blooded mammals – was he a mammal? - stuck in a confined space…it just made _sense_. And yet he had some archaic morals or principles that stopped him; that made him act like a gentleman. But he wasn't a gentleman, he was an alien. Was that why he didn't want her?

The thought made Amy feel wretched inside. Her guts twisted painfully and her heart clenched. That was something she could never change – they were not of the same species – but if she was having a half Time Lord baby then surely it didn't matter?

This was how her thoughts kept circling and why she kept pacing, she could just not draw a conclusion, sensible or otherwise.

Unfortunately, she knew she would have to face him soon. She couldn't stay in this bedroom forever. Could she…? _No_. That was a stupid, irrational thought that she shouldn't entertain. Yes, she was angry. Yes, she was feeling pretty humiliated. And yes, she was confused. But none of those feelings were reason enough to stay in here; to hide out. She could get over them all. In fact, that was what she should do now. She would step out of this room and as soon as she did then she was going to put these thoughts and emotions – whatever they meant – to the back of her mind and she was going to pretend like this – whatever _this _was – never happened. It was obvious the Doctor didn't want anything more from their relationship so why should she push it and hurt and humiliate herself in the process? It was a pointless endeavour and Amelia Pond was never one to indulge in pointless endeavours. She would cut her losses now.

With one final, heavy sigh, she checked herself in the mirror – saw that she looked flushed but no longer stricken with tears – and steeled herself before she left the room. Long strides took her down the winding corridors of the time-ship and she listened out for the tell-tale hum of the console room in order to find her way back there. It didn't take long; usually she managed to get lost at least twice but, for once, she had found her way there with no trouble.

"Doctor?" she called, as soon as she entered. "Doctor?"

There was no reply.

Frowning, she picked her way carefully across the floor because it was covered in a vast array of coloured wiring and bits of gadgetry that she was sure were meant to be _in _the machine rather than scattered haphazardly all over the place, and slowly walked down the stairs. She heard him before she saw him, humming away as he fiddled with the underbelly of his beloved time machine. He was elbow deep in circuitry and had a massive pair of retro headphones on. The music must be blaring pretty loud into his ears because he didn't hear her approach at all – even when she tripped on a loose grill – and he merely continued bopping his head in time with the music.

Tentatively, she leant over and tapped his shoulder. The Doctor jumped like he'd been electrocuted and Amy momentarily wondered whether all the energy she'd harnessed early _had _actually been released as soon as she touched him. However, she quickly dismissed that as a stupid notion. She raised her eyebrows, expectantly, instead, as she waited for him to remove the headphones.

"Pond…" It was not his usual cheery welcome. For once he sounded unsure of himself; cautious. There was an element of questioning to his tone. In fact, he looked rather surprised to see her, his blue eyes wide and staring.

"Soooo….wotcha up to?" she queried casually, plonking herself down in the swing seat. It was warm beneath her, suggesting it had only been recently vacated. She pushed off with her toes, swinging herself gently.

The Doctor blinked. Once. "Um…well I'm recalibrating the vortex manipulator and then I was going to have a go at fiddling with the cortical wiring on the nervous plane. The ol' girl's been acting a bit loopy lately, you see."

"Sounds…fun," Amy said with a nonchalant shrug. "I think anyone would get a bit loopy hanging out with you for so many years."

As she spoke, she couldn't help but notice how the Doctor's eyes kept flicking awkwardly to hers and then away again, as if trying to surreptitiously check on her without being caught; as if he wanted to gauge her reaction to anything he said and judge her mood. Well, she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd upset and embarrassed her. She could act like nothing was wrong. That was something she was a pro at.

"Yeah," the Doctor finally, murmured, pensively, "I seem to have that affect on people."

Amy didn't miss a beat. "Yeah, whatever, anyway, I've been wondering if she does anything interesting. You know, like party tricks?"

The Doctor spluttered, going red in the face. "Party tricks? Anything _interesting_? Pond, are we talking about the same machine here? My ship that's both a _time machine _and a _spaceship_?"

"Ha, knew that would get your goat," Amy sniggered, "I'm just messing with ya, geek-boy." She went to punch him playfully on the arm but, at the last moment, thought better of it. "Oh, loving the headphones by the way, very seventies."

"Thank you," the Doctor replied, with a grin, "But I would like my goat back please. All in one piece, preferably, 'cos I know what you Scots are like."

"Hey! What's that meant to mean?"

"Nothing, nothing," the Doctor said, flapping his hands, "The thing with the goats - and Scotland - may or may not have happened yet. I can never remember. Memory like a sieve unless its to do with science or Disney films. Anyways, I'll show you what my time machine can do. Voila!" He flipped a switch and pulled his headphones off and seconds later music was blaring out of the TARDIS, filling the room.

"Oh! Yes, Doctor! Always gotta love a bit of _T-Rex_! This reminds me _so _much of Billy Elliot," Amy crowed with pleasure, doing a little wiggle, "We Love to Boogie."

"On a Saturday night!" the Doctor joined in with an arm movement reminiscent of the orang-utan from the _Jungle Book_. Amy began giggling as he continued to perform his strange dance moves with more gusto.

"You, Doctor, are a one of a kind, complete and utter nutcase!"

"Why, thank you," the Doctor laughed, a twinkle in his eye. "Come on, Pond, I'm waiting for you to lob some shapes."

"Ha ha, I think it's 'throw' some shapes, Doctor," Amy chuckled, good-naturedly. "And fine. We may as well make fools out of ourselves together."

"That's what I like to hear!"

He caught her hand in his and the two of them began a game of who could form the most elaborate and ludicrous dance sequence to the music. Soon all Amy could do to keep herself upright was hold onto the swing seat for dear life. Her legs felt like they would collapse any minute from all the laughing. When he wanted to be, the Doctor could be the funniest and silliest man alive. He performed yet another twisty, twirly move that made him look like a cross between a drunken ballerina and a dog caught on insanely slippery ice and Amy lost it.

"Oh….my….god….." Amy guffawed, trying to stand up straight so she could have her go. She could barely breathe and her chest was hurting from all the laughing but she didn't care in the slightest. She hadn't felt this giddy in a long time. It was like _she _was drunk; drunk on the Doctor – who was a potent cocktail in a league all of his own.

As she let go of the security of the swing, she felt herself wobble and then – with a horrible lurching sense of dread – she realised she was about to fall. However, just before she did, he was there to catch her, right under the armpits, holding her upright with ease, just like he had done when he'd run with her back to the TARDIS. She leant into him, breathing heavily, both with shock and something…else. Her nose was buried in his chest.

"Whoa, Pond, I've got you," he said, holding her tightly. "I think that's enough hysterical laughter for one day, don't you?"

For a few moments he wondered why he was receiving no reply and then he realised that Amy was shuddering in his arms. And this wasn't from laughter. She was sobbing into his chest, her breaths hitching painfully in her throat, her salty wet tears soaking his shirt.

"Oh, Amelia," he whispered, softly, stroking her back and then cradling her head with his hand. "It's all right. You're all right."

Still, she continued to cry and all he could do was hold her, stroke her hair and murmur gentle words to calm her down. Eventually, her slender body stopped jerking up and down in his arms and her sobs faded to heavy breathing. He didn't let go. He knew she wasn't ready yet. She needed this. He knew after last night that she was experiencing a turmoil of emotions and that she needed some comfort. And, despite the fact he was the cause of her upset, he was also the only one here who could care for her. All awkwardness between them was gone. This was just about being best friends; about being there for each other in times of need.

"I'm done now, Doctor," came a small voice from the depths of his shirt, muffled by the material. Slowly, almost reluctantly, Amy pulled back.

"You sure? Got it all out of your system?" he asked, tenderly, looking down at her with concerned eyes.

"Yeah," she sniffed, "I think so." She looked at him, her green eyes shining. "Thank you."

"My pleasure. Any time you need a hug, you know I'm here. Very huggable person, me."

Amy half-laughed, feeling worn out from her crying. "That you are," she murmured. "Wow, though, can't believe I went from one extreme to the other."

"That's not uncommon in pregnancy. It's the hormones."

He'd said the dreaded word but neither of them commented or even reacted to it. They let it pass by. They let what had happened pass by. It seemed that neither of them particularly wanted to address what had occurred and both seemed happy – or at least willing – to leave it for now.

"Yeah, but I didn't realise the mood swings would be quite so _dramatic_," Amy replied, wiping her damp eyes. She'd probably smudged her make up but she didn't really care.

"I know what will cheer you up."

"Yeah? What?"

"Ice-cream."

"Ice-cream?"

"Of course! And I know just the place. How does Venice, Italy sound? There's this tiny little parlour I know, right by the bridge."

"Sounds like my cup of tea." Amy offered him a watery smile.

The Doctor arched an eyebrow. "Oh, so you want tea now _as well_, do you? Greedy guts! I know you're eating for two but _still_."

"Shut it, you." She punched him on the arm….and it felt good.

**Okay, a little shorter than usual but I thought you would want it sooner rather than later. I don't have much time what with my exams! Please review! **


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note - Thanks for the reviews. I'm glad you're reviewing the story. **

Amy hadn't given up hope. Not entirely. She had now realised that she'd made her move too early; she'd done it at the wrong time; at a time when the Doctor believed that she was hormonal and therefore obviously void of her senses – which of course she wasn't – and at a time when he would have felt like he was taking advantage of a vulnerable pregnant woman. She may be pregnant but she certainly wasn't vulnerable and she wanted him, more than anything. Of course she'd been attracted to him when they first met but she was engaged and she decided it was a crush, a passing fancy because he was exciting and enigmatic and charming, but now she was carrying his unborn child things were different. Her feelings for him ran deeper every day, carving themselves into her heart. It wasn't about lust anymore; it was love. She loved him and there was nothing she could do to banish that love. It held her fast. And that's why she couldn't give up hope.

However, she knew she had to bide her time and wait, be patient. She may be ready but the Doctor certainly wasn't. Therefore, she would wait until after the birth of their child – their son – and then he would undoubtedly realise that whatever was holding him back was pointless, trivial and they would be a family. A true family. That prospect made her chest ache with longing. It was an ache she'd never had with Rory. She'd always thought she loved Rory, that's why she agreed to marry him after all, but she realised now that that was never true love. It was _nothing _in comparison to what she was feeling now. She'd never felt such intense emotions with him. And she now knew why. It was because, all those years ago, she'd given a piece of her heart to the Doctor – the most loving part, the passionate part– and he'd taken it away with him, whisked away in a blue box. She'd been without it ever since. That is until he returned to her and within moments, almost impossibly fast, she devoted herself to him once more, trusted him with her life implicitly as one would a soul-mate. He had that piece of her heart after all.

She had thought, when these feelings began to grow in her, that she was cheating on Rory, her _fiancé_, by thinking about the Doctor but then she came to realise that Doctor had been the one for her long before Rory. He was the man she thought of every day since she met him. He was the one who filled her dreams. He was the one who saved her in her nightmares. He was the man who'd turned up in the middle of the night and filled her mind with possibilities. He'd broken her heart, yes, but he'd come back and saved her life; saved her planet. Surely that had to mean something? And she even now understood why it had happened because the Doctor certainly did lead an insane life, full of twists and turns and the fact he'd found her in the first place, in a universe so vast, had to mean something. She couldn't blame him anymore.

And she also couldn't blame him for not sharing her intense feelings. Although she had known him her entire life, he had known her for much less. He'd seen her jump from girl to kiss-o-gram to bride-to-be and therefore it would take more time for him to love her which is exactly why she was being patient. She just had to satisfy herself with holding hands and hugging and sharing lingering glances that she felt meant _so _much but she expected didn't mean a lot to the Doctor. He was oblivious to that kind of thing.

Sighing, Amy sloshed the water of her bath around her and realised it had gone cold. She must have been in here for hours. Her skin had shrivelled up and her fingers looked like dried prunes. Pulling a face, she carefully manoeuvred herself upright using the handrail and made her way to the edge. Looking down, it looked like an awfully long way to step, especially wet and with a cumbersome belly. Teetering, she realised she was probably stuck.

"_Crap_," she hissed under her breath, "Crap, crap, crappity-crap. Stupid bath."

Grumbling to herself she tried to lift her leg but found herself losing her balance almost immediately. Fortunately, she grabbed the wall just in time before she came crashing down onto the hard porcelain.

Nope. There was no way out. She was definitely stuck.

Time to call for back up.

"DOCTOR!" she hollered as loud as she could. "DOCTOR GET IN HERE!"

She stopped yelling and waited, listening. There was a distant crash and a bang and then the sound of running feet. She sighed in relief….and then remembered her rather revealing position. Glancing down at her naked body she suddenly felt very exposed. A red flush worked its way up her neck and splashed across her cheeks. She wasn't usually one to be self-conscious but helpless and horribly, massively pregnant in a bath was not a place to be showing of her shapely body. This was _not _how she wanted the Doctor to see her naked for the first time. Unfortunately, it was too late to go back now and she couldn't even reach a blasted towel. She braced herself and covered herself with her arms as best she could.

There was some more crashing and thumping of doors before someone ran into the wood of her own bathroom door.

"Pond? Pond! Are you okay?" the Doctor shouted, frantically. She could hear the whizzing of his sonic screwdriver and she drew in a deep breath of preparation.

_Bang_.

The door burst open and almost flew off its hinges to reveal a wide-eyed, panic-stricken Time Lord. His anxious gaze fell on his companion, standing stark naked in the bath, and it took him a few moments to realise what he was seeing.

"Good god!" he yelped in horror and practically slapped himself in the face in an attempt to cover his eyes. "Amy Pond, where are your clothes?"

"Not on me, obviously," Amy replied, biting her lip.

"Then why am I here?" he asked, sounding utterly mortified by his intrusion. "I thought….I thought you were in _trouble_." As he spoke he struggled to string syllables together.

"I am!" Amy exclaimed, "I'm stuck."

"In the bath?"

"Yes."

The Doctor gulped. "And you need me for?"

"I need help to get _out_, Doctor. You know someone to lean on?"

"Lean on?" he practically choked.

"Uh, yeah."

"I'll….I'll get you a towel!"

Still with his eyes covered, the Doctor hurried over to the towel rack – almost crashing into it because of his blindness - and grabbed a fluffy white towel. Swiftly, he attempted to hand it to Amy and almost dropped it. Fortunately, she swiped and grabbed the soft white fabric before it fell in her cold bath water. Quickly, she wrapped it round her.

"Okay, Doctor, you can look now."

"Phew," the Doctor sighed, removing his fingers.

"What?" Amy scowled, feeling more confident now she was covered. "Glad you don't have to look at my fat body anymore?"

The Doctor once again looked mortified. "No! No! Not at all. Your body is beautiful, Amy." Both their eyes went as round as dinner plates at his words. "I mean! I mean….that you have nothing to be ashamed of. All pregnant women's bodies are beautiful….I mean all women's bodies... no! Human bodies….I mean…I mean…." The Doctor was now the colour of a beetroot and still getting redder. "_All _bodies?" he finished meekly.

"I think you saved that…in a really pervy, creepy way," Amy said, dryly, observing the crimson colour of his ears and feeling slightly better about her own embarrassment. They were embarrassed together. That wasn't so bad.

"I'm glad?" he said, weakly, "Shall we get you out now before I dig myself further into this crater-sized hole?"

"Good plan."

The Doctor leant over and offered her a hand, which she took, and a shoulder to lean on with her other hand. Awkwardly, the two of them managed to get her out of the bath and onto solid ground with no injuries. The Doctor was acutely aware of where he was placing his hands and Amy was acutely aware of where his hands were placed and whether her towel was about to fall down and reveal her swollen pregnancy breasts. It was not a particularly pleasant experience for either of them. However, it was over and they could now go their separate ways to nurse their wounds of humiliation.

"You sorted?" the Doctor checked.

"Fine and dandy, thanks," Amy replied, holding her towel tighter. "Next time I think I'll stick with a shower though…or maybe find a lake, you know."

"Good idea….well…I er….will leave you to it."

"Right. Okay. Well, see you in a bit."

"Yes….of course."

And then he was gone like a flash.

Amy could still feel the intense heat of where his palms had touched her bare skin. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably.

* * *

At twenty eight weeks pregnant, Amy was in her full maternity gear. She tried to still look attractive but it was really very hard not to look like a floral cow. As a general rule she wore tighter fitting clothes but now she was pregnant she'd changed her style to flimsy, floaty garments. It made her feel very summery and a little less ungainly. Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do about her ugly waddle or her bad back – those she just had to stick with. She'd been applying some cream that she'd found in the TARDIS medicinal cabinet for her vivid stretch marks and they seemed to be fading so perhaps she wouldn't lose her figure completely.

Right now, she was wearing a crisp white blouse with pretty lacing around the low neckline interspersed with small wooden beads and a pair of khaki shorts which were relatively short because, thankfully, her slender legs were unaffected by the pregnancy so she could still feel somewhat feminine. There was a reason she was dressed up, her auburn hair falling in supple waves on her shoulders and her make up tastefully done and that was because the Doctor was making her dinner. They never usually bothered with formal meals. Usually they grabbed what they fancied whenever they could but because Amy had been complaining about how uncomfortable and painful her life was right now, the Doctor had kindly offered to cook her a meal to cheer her up. And she had seen it as the perfect opportunity to show him that she was still beautiful and feminine. It would probably be more difficult to get his attention once the baby was born and she was covered in baby sick and milk stains.

Heading down the corridor, she found her way to the kitchen and spotted the Doctor dancing around by the stove. He was wearing his normal attire - minus the jacket and bowtie - and his top two shirt buttons were casually undone. A sliver of pale skin peeped out, tantalisingly. He looked less prep-school professor and more dashingly handsome date. Amy tried desperately to school her thoughts. It was hard though when all she wanted to do was run her hands through that luscious, impossibly bouncy brown hair. Just as she was about to reach out and fulfil her fantasy, the Doctor whipped round and spotted her.

"Aha! Pond! Perfect timing!" he declared with a massive grin, as if she'd made his day by appearing just at that moment. Her heart fluttered, especially when he threw a casual arm over her shoulder and gestured at the food cooking on the stove. She registered he had a tiny endearing smudge on his nose and she tried not to wipe it off. "Here we have some exquisitely grilled salmon that I'm about to sprinkle into that gorgeous noodle stir fry where it's going to get down and jiggy with those perfectly crispy vegetables."

"Okay, you started well but you lost it towards the end," Amy laughed, "You almost had me convinced that you knew what you were talking about."

"Shut up. Of _course _I know what I'm talking about. I _always _know what I'm talking about." The Doctor's sparkling eyes caught hers and the two of them chuckled. Amy held his gaze a moment longer than necessary, biting her lip, but he didn't seem to notice. "So, I've laid the table and all you need to do is plonk your backside down in that seat."

"You put it so eloquently," Amy quipped, "Here I thought we were having an elegant supper."

"Amelia Pond, do you know me _at all_?" the Doctor said with a wink, "This _is _as posh as I go. If we had it my way it would be salmon and ice cream for dinner."

"Oh my god, are you _trying _to make me vomit?" Amy fake retched. "And what is your obsession with messing with fish?"

"I don't know really," the Doctor shrugged. "Now, here we go, dinner is served…Madame." He gave her the plate with a flourish and a French accent.

"The 'Madame' didn't save it," Amy teased.

"Cor, nothing pleases you, does it, Pond?" The Doctor sighed and dropped into his seat.

They ate and talked amiably. Amy tried a few times to drop hints but to no avail, as per usual, the Doctor was oblivious. It just made her grow more and more frustrated. Eventually, they finished and after clearing up their plates, the Doctor suggested moving to the control room because he needed to sort out some problems with the TARDIS engines in there – apparently they'd been groaning and grinding more than usual lately, not that Amy could tell the difference.

In the control room, Amy dropped into the captain's chair and the Doctor straightened his braces before getting to work. Amy watched him as they spoke. If asked, she would have no idea what they talked about because all she could do was stare at him and study him. She just found it so hard to believe that he existed, that he was as utterly _special _and unique as he was; and that she was having a child. She was completely enamoured by him and not just because of the way he looked, it was the way he talked; the way he flung his arms around; the way his eyes lit up in such a way that it made you feel like whatever he was saying was the most important thing in the universe; it was the way he laughed so raucously at your jokes and made some brilliant ones of his own; it was the way he knew _exactly _what he was doing as he delved into the depths of what looked to be the most complicated machine imaginable; the way the muscles in his back rippled; how his tendons stood out on his arms like taut guitar strings. She couldn't get enough of him and it was killing her.

"Doctor," she said, quietly, tentatively.

"Yes, Pond," he replied, his head lost in the bowels of his beloved machine. Strange sounds occasionally issued from both him and the time ship.

"I was thinking…."

"Yeah?" _Ping_. "Oops. That wasn't meant to happen…do continue…"

"About…stuff…."

"Ookay." Grunt. _Thump_. "Ouch. Oh, don't mind me, Pond."

"I mean…we're friends, right?"

"Ooofff….yes, of course, goes without saying."

"Best friends?"

_Bang_. _Ting_. "Most definitely."

"Right. Good."

"Is this going somewhere, Pond?"

"Erh…I'm kinda working up to it."

_Crack_. "Cripes, that can't be good." Amy had no idea whether he was referring her words or his work.

"Well, anyway, you know what happened a couple of months ago…in the TV room…."

Silence.

"Yeah, well, I've been thinking about it a lot and…and I don't think it was 'just hormones'. I think I like you, Doctor, I mean really, really like you." Amy hated the fact she sounded like an inexperienced teenager but it just seemed to be what the Doctor did to her, made her feel like she was an intimidated fourteen year old.

Silence.

"Doctor?" Her voice was small and tentative. He still had his head in the TARDIS wiring.

"Amy…." the Doctor began just as Amy gushed, "Doctor, I think I _love _you."

Slowly, the Doctor extricated himself from the inside of his ship and turned around to face her. Her breath caught in her throat. Her blood rushed noisily in her ears. Then she saw his eyes and her heart stopped beating.

"Amy," he said, trying again, "Amelia…I can't….I've loved…well, I've loved a lot of people. I have in the past and I'm sure I will in the future. It's the nature of a sentient being: to seek love." His words cut into her heart like the blade of a knife, slicing through the muscle as if it was butter, striking at her centre. She shuddered. "And I'm _sorry_. _So sorry_. But I'm a Time Lord; you're a human. I love you as my friend but I don't think I can love you as anything…more."

"I'm having your baby," she whispered, feeling her bleeding heart throb.

"You are but you know that was an accident and nothing more, Amelia, don't you?" He spoke slowly, enunciating each word, trying to be gentle but failing miserably. "You can see that? We were not in love then; we aren't in love now. I was nothing more than a sperm donor. I did ask you to terminate the baby because I was afraid… _this_ would happen. It's natural for a mother to feel things for the father of her child but we didn't create this child from love, Amelia. It was artificial. I hoped that maybe this could work, us raising a child, but it obviously can't." The Doctor closed his eyes, scrunched them up so tight like he was a parent with an incoming migraine caused by a particularly tiresome child. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Amy felt her temper flare. "I _wish _this hadn't happened. I really do. I wish you were back in Leadworth with the man you love and who loves you back. I wish you were pregnant with his child…"

"_Fine_!" Amy interrupted, utterly livid. "FINE! I said I would leave before! You obviously don't want me here. You obviously don't want this child so I'll go. I'll go back to Rory and Earth and I'll tell him what happened, that I went with you and travelled in time but, you know what," she spat, viciously, her eyes flashing, "I'll tell him that this is his baby, not the child of some cruel, insensitive arsehole. And he'll believe me and he'll look after the baby because he's a good man…." Amy was crying now, tears streaming down her face. "And he trusts me and he…he loves me."

The Doctor stared at her, seemingly a little stunned. She couldn't see why. Could he not see how much his words hurt her? Did he not _understand_?

"In fact, _right now_, take me there _right _now," she shouted.

"I…"

"_Now_. I don't even want to look at you."

Suddenly, the time ship lurched, almost throwing Amy off her feet. The Doctor reached out to steady her but she whipped her elbow out of his reach and stabilised herself on a railing. The TARDIS engines grated loudly around them, filling the control room with the familiar deafening roaring. Eventually, it stopped rocking and came to a stop. With a frown, the Doctor ran to the control panel.

"Earth? What the-?" he said, glancing at his time ship in confusion. He twisted the dial on his temporal manipulator and studied the readings and then flicked a couple of switches in bewilderment.

Finally, he turned back to face Amy.

But she was gone. The TARDIS front door hung open in her wake.

**Ah...a return to the angst. Don't despair. It will all make sense soon. That is if you review. Otherwise you may never know what happens...is this blackmail? It probably is :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note - thank you for the wonderful reviews! My blackmail seems to have worked! Maybe I shall try again. ;)**

The Doctor registered Amy's absence in split second and in that time he was dashing across the platform and careening down the steps; realising too late that she had meant every word she'd said. However, as he reached the open door, it abruptly slammed shut in his face. There was a sickening crunch as he collided with the wood.

"No, no, _no_! Open this at _once_!" he yelled at the TARDIS, flailing his arms wildly.

There was an indignant grating sound.

"What do you mean you didn't do it? Of course you did! They're your doors!"

His time-ship hummed in reply.

"But if you really didn't do it then…." The Doctor's face grew slack. His hearts thudded to a halt. "Then Amy could be in terrible danger."

* * *

She'd moved very quickly through the dark streets of Leadworth, like a wily alley cat that knew all the shortcuts and back-passages. It didn't take her long to reach the house that she had called home for so many years of her life with its over-reaching gables, its tatty blue front door and creeping ivy. Was it still her home now? She wasn't sure. She also wasn't sure what the day was or the date. Was it the same day she left? Could it really be? The idea of time travel still freaked her out. How could she have lived so many months when Rory had not even aged a day? Glancing up at the windows she saw that all the lights were still off. No one was home. God, what if she had come back to a time that was entirely different? What if it was fifty years in the future? _Anything _could have happened in her absence. Rory would have probably moved on, married someone else. The thought made her sad but also strangely happy that he would still have the chance to live a full and conventional life. She'd mucked up so much of his life already with her obsession with the Doctor and her 'psychotic episodes' as the psychiatrists deemed them. Maybe he would, for once, be able to stop playing second fiddle.

Dropping heavily onto a low stone wall, Amy stared at her house a little longer and waited. If tonight truly was the night before her wedding then Rory would still be at his stag do, having a raucous time in the local pub with all his football team mates and his friends from the hospital. She remembered that his friend had printed up some daft red t-shirts with her and Rory's face on, entwined forever in a picture – in a tacky heart if she remembered. It made her heart ache to recall those simple things in life. Maybe the Doctor was right; maybe she didn't belong with him.

"Huuuuuurrrrrrrahhhhhh!"

Loud masculine voices suddenly filled the air accompanied by the stamping of heavy feet and bottles chinking.

"For 'e's a jolly good fellow, for 'e's a jolly good fellow and so say all of us!" The singing was deafening and painfully out of tune but none of the men seemed to mind as they staggered up the street, draped over one another.

Amy watched them progress, her pulse quickening. She rose off the stone wall and backed into the shadows.

"Once again?" someone with a deep, very drunken, voice roared, "For 'e's a jolly good fellow…."

"Pack it in, Tommo, people will be trying ter sleep. In fact, ain't your missus in that 'ouse, Ro-rry?"

"Yes, so shhhhh," a slighter figure said and giggled. Amy finally picked out her fiancé being practically carried by the two men either side of him. "Don't wanna wake her up 'fore the big day."

"Nah, come on, we're almost there." The man that spoke seemed much more sober than his friends and he took most of Rory's weight onto his shoulder. "Few steps should do it, mate."

"Urgh….I don't feel so good," Rory suddenly muttered. He threw himself to his knees beside the stone wall and proceeded to be violently sick against it. Amy shuddered each time he vomited.

"Eh….what do we do?" one man said scratching his head, awkwardly.

"It's alright, guys, I'll take it from here." Amy stepped out of the shadows and came to help her fallen fiancé, she carefully hid her baby bump with one arm but it wasn't really necessary considering the dark.

They all had varying degrees of shock and embarrassment on their face, like little boys caught in the wrong.

"Oh…Oh…hello Amy, we er….sorry….its…." they all mumbled, awkwardly.

Amy felt her lips curve into a half smile at their ineptitude. She should probably give them an escape route before they embarrassed themselves further. "It's fine. You guys can go now. I'll look after him."

They didn't need telling twice. The men scarpered down the street, moving as quickly as their ungainly, uncoordinated bodies would allow. Amy watched them go with amusement, especially as one weaved in and out of the dull orange glow of the streetlamp and promptly tripped over his own feet.

"Amy?" Rory's slur brought her back to reality. "Is tha' you?"

"Yes," she said, gently, stroking the back of his neck. "How are you feeling?"

"I've….I've been better," he mumbled, woozily. "Sorry, 'bout this…I didn't mean to drink so much but…you know…" He tailed off.

"Oh, I know what your friends are like. Frankly, I'm surprised you even made it home."

There was no reply and she realised that if she didn't start moving him into the house now then he would be passed out and she would never shift him.

"Hey, hey, wake up," she said, gently shaking him.

"Wha'?"

"Don't zonk out on me yet, you drunkard, I need to get you up to bed. You're gonna have to give me a hand though, I can't lift you on my own."

With some effort, she managed to coax Rory to his feet and control his wayward limbs, before guiding him slowly, step by wobbly step, to the front door. She grunted as she worked but it felt good to have someone to take care of, to be responsible for. She felt more in control when she was with Rory whereas with the Doctor she never completely had her balance.

"Come on, up the stairs," she said, softly.

"I don't wanna," Rory moaned, tiredly, dropping slowly towards the comfort of the floor.

"Whoa! Okay. Perhaps the stairs is a bit too much to ask," Amy yelped, trying to stop him collapsing completely. "Let's put you on the sofa instead."

Swiftly, she led the practically unconscious man to the tatty old green sofa in the living room and pushed him onto it. He fell in an awkward heap so she had to methodically rearrange his limbs until he was comfortable and safe – not in danger of falling onto the hard wooden floorboards. She found a blanket and dropped it over the top of him, carefully tucking in the edges.

"You alright now?" she asked, stroking his hair, "Not gonna be sick again?"

"N'aww," Rory murmured, staring up at her with big round eyes. He looked like a little boy. "I'm sorry, Amy, for this, so sorry. I won't ever drink again….I promise…cross….cross my heart." He haphazardly hit his chest. "You believe me don't you?"

"Yeah," Amy said, quietly, almost reluctantly as she gazed at what she could have had.

"G'night, Amy. Love you."

Slowly, she leant over and kissed him on the forehead.

"I love you too." She paused. "And I'm so, so sorry."

But Rory didn't hear her last words because sleep had overcome him and he was dead to the world. She brushed his fringe off his forehead with a small wistful sigh.

Amy sat with him for an hour, just stroking his hair, studying him and she found the longer she stared at him, the longer she saw him as this innocent little boy lost in his peaceful slumber. His face lost all its lines and all its tension – the lines and tension she caused – when he slept and she wanted him to stay like that forever, she wanted him to be happy. If she dropped her bombshell on him…well, she would destroy him, she would destroy this precious, precious man; one of the few genuinely good men left in the world. She couldn't do that. It would be cruel and selfish. If she took advantage of his big, generous heart and his unquestioning trust and loyalty then she would never forgive herself. Those were some of the things about him that attracted her to him in the first place. She couldn't manipulate them now. That just seemed so wrong.

And so, she would have to face this alone. She wouldn't burden anyone else. Not innocent Rory. Not the Doctor. She would handle this on her own, like she always had done. Nothing defeated Amy Pond.

* * *

She left a note. It seemed a pitiful way to sum up all the years they'd spent together, all the good times they'd shared; the laughter, the fun. However, she didn't think she could face him again in the morning. She would probably cave and take advantage of him. She wouldn't leave. And that couldn't happen.

In the note she told him that she loved him but that it wasn't the right kind of love. She told him that he was special and deserved better than her. She told him to move on. She desperately hoped he'd listen.

Quietly shutting the front door in her wake, Amy wandered aimlessly down the path and pondered upon exactly what she should do next. Where should she go? A bed and breakfast? A hotel? She didn't want to stay in Leadworth, that was for sure. In fact, she wanted to leave tonight. If she stuck around any longer then she would probably give up the idea of independence and go crawling back to Rory…or the Doctor.

Drawing in a deep steadying breath, she considered her options. She could take Rory's car. She could walk to the next town and catch a bus. She could…she could….well, actually, those were her only options. Eventually, she decided to walk. It wasn't far and Leadworth was hardly rife with criminals. She would be fine and the air would clear her head. Before she had left her home, she'd had the forethought to change into some warmer clothes. It had been difficult because of her large pregnancy bump but she'd found some old tracksuit bottoms and a hoodie that belonged to Rory. Now she didn't care what she looked like, why should she? There was no one to impress anymore. No one to care. The Doctor had made that perfectly, painfully clear.

As she scuffed along the bridal pathway along the riverbank – the river ran past the two villages and so would be a good route to follow so she wouldn't lose herself in the dark – a torch in one hand, Amy found herself awash with sadness, a sadness she couldn't shake. Everything she'd believed, everything she'd hoped for, it had all been for nothing. There would be no happy ending, no perfect little family. She realised now she'd been living in a fantasy world, a fairy tale. This was real life and as much as the Doctor's mad and exciting lifestyle seemed so detached from the real world, it wasn't. It was as cold and harsh as reality. She just wished she'd realised that before.

Unconsciously, Amy stroked her protruding abdomen, felt the kick of the baby beneath her fingers and had to firmly remind herself that she hadn't lost _everything_. In fact, she still had what was most important: her child. Her son was what would keep her going even when she was at her lowest. She loved him more than she thought humanly possible. Already she knew that she would lay down her life for him in a second. She wouldn't ever lose him.

A few stars winked at her from the velvety heavens and she let out a sigh because that was all they would ever be to her from now on, distant galaxies, not places she could visit at the drop of a hat. That life was over.

Amy's foot caught on a tough root that had spread across the path and she let out a yelp of surprise, falling to her knees. Her torch skittered away. The impact grazed the skin on her knees and palms and almost immediately she felt tears spring to her eyes. However, she hadn't fallen on her stomach so the baby was safe.

_Whoosh_.

Milliseconds after she'd tripped, she felt something whizz over her head.

"What the…?" she gasped, looking up to see something glinting in the moonlight.

It was a dart. A tranquiliser dart embedded in the hard bark of the tree that had moments ago felled her. Amy's heart quickened with realisation. Her eyes flashed upward and across the riverbank she caught sight of three figures, tall and ominous, but she couldn't see what they really looked like because her torch was gone. That dart had been meant for her! These men were attacking her.

Immediately, Amy was on her feet and running. It was hard going because her stomach was cumbersome and heavy and her path was lit only by the dim glow of the moon. In her peripherals, she was acutely aware of the men giving chase. They had no means to cross the river – it was too wide and there was no bridge – but they matched her stride for stride on the other bank. Tears were still streaming down Amy's face from when she had fallen and they fell thicker and faster when she truly realised the gravity of her situation; the sheer danger she was in.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," she panted as she sprinted. "Please no, please no."

There was no way off the bridal path. To her right was the river, she could hear its rushing current as she ran, and to her left was a barbed wire fence behind which was a steep incline designed to stop the sheep escaping from the field above and ending up in the water. She was trapped and the only way was forward. All Amy could do was press on and hope. Vaguely, she could hear the figures shouting at one another but she couldn't hear what they were saying, in fact it may have been foreign; all she could hear was the whoosh of the wind and the roar of the river. Her breath was getting shorter. She wouldn't be able to keep this pace for much longer…there was no escape.

And then, suddenly, she placed her foot down and the ground gave way beneath it. With a strangled cry, Amy found herself plunging into the river. The coldness hit her like a battering ram and knocked the breath from her lungs immediately. Soon she was fully submerged in the dark raging water, her body being dragged along by the current like a rag doll. She tried to fight but she was so weak and the water was so cold and she didn't know which way was up. Her last thought was for her unborn son before she succumbed to the darkness…

On the bank, the three figures drew to an abrupt halt. Their quarry had vanished. They stood for a few minutes on the grassy verge, staring at the swirling torrent of water. There was no sign of life.

One of the figures murmured to the other two. They nodded in reply. It was over.

**Mwahaha...review?**


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note - Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! See, because you were all so kind you didn't have to wait long! Though I have to say its about to get a whole lot worse. I think, in all honesty, the cliff at the end of this chapter is THE WORST I have ever sprung upon my readers so, in advance, I'm very very sorry. **

* * *

An owl hooted softly in the cool night air and swooped down from her sheltered perch in an old beech tree, her lamp-like eyes focussed on the miniscule mouse skittering merrily across the grassy bank unaware of any impending danger. Her massive, gnarled talons stretched out before her – prehistoric looking and razor sharp, ready to sink into tender flesh – as she closed in. Momentarily, the mouse stopped and sniffed the air, its tawny back to the ghostly hunter. She was almost there, her muscles clenched in anticipation.

_Whoosh. Whumph. Whoosh. Whumph. _

The bird croaked in surprise and fear as something materialised in her path and, before she only just managed to change her trajectory before she collided painfully with it. All thoughts of the mouse vanished as she performed an inelegant u-turn, a flurry of feathers scattering in her wake.

The mouse escaped, unscathed, ready to survive another day. Completely unaware of how close he'd been to his demise, he scampered away from the strange wooden box and into the undergrowth, his long skinny tail flicking lazily behind him.

Seconds after the rodent had vanished, the blue door of the strange, foreign object sprung open with an almighty bang and a dark figure flew from within like the shot from a cannon. He stopped abruptly outside and surveyed the black waters swirling in front of him.

"Amy, where are you?" he murmured, running frenetic fingers through his wild hair. "You should be _here_. Right _here. _So where are you? Amy? Amy!"

As he roared her name, he swivelled on the spot, observing the desolate landscape around him.

"Amy! Amelia!"

There was no reply to his frantic calls, just silence, other than the rushing river in front of him. Suddenly, his foot caught something. _Clink_. Bending down, curiously, he picked up a hard object and inspected it swiftly with the light from his sonic screwdriver. It was a torch. A pink child's torch with the name Amelia engraved in calligraphy on its metallic side. She had been here!

"AMY!" he bellowed again, hopelessly, staring into the pitch night.

Then he saw it, glimmering in the beam from his screwdriver, embedded in the rough bark of a nearby beech tree – the beech tree that the owl had not long since vacated – a dart.

"No…" he breathed, hurrying over and grabbing the sharp needle from the tree. "No. Oh, Amy, what have I done?" His blue eyes were massive and terrified.

_But it didn't hit her. _

His sensible, rational voice piped up and the realisation hit him in full force. She hadn't been hit so she would have had time to make a break for it and he knew Amy, he knew she would have legged it and tried everything she could to evade her pursuers. With a quick assessment he realised she could have only gone left or right and judging by the direction the torch had fallen, he guessed left. And just like that he was off again, like a whippet out of the starting gates. His long legs took him along the exact path that Amy had run but at twice the speed and it didn't take him long to reach the spot. The spot where, with horrifying, sickening clarity, he realised what had happened.

"Oh no, oh no…Amy," he gasped. His heartbeat faltered; his lungs struggled to draw breath. He stared at the gulf of water surging by. Amy had fallen in _there_. There was no way she could survive. No way. "_NO! _She can't be!"

Furiously denying the undeniable truth, he grabbed his shirt and ripped it off, buttons spraying everywhere. He yanked off his boots and discarded his trousers with a fervour borne of desperation. Clad only in his boxers, he took a second to size up the rapidly flowing water before diving in. He sliced through the icy water like an arrow and immediately felt all his muscles seize up but he pressed on. He would not give up until he found her. Never. His Time Lord physiology gave him some advantage in the freezing cold water but he didn't like to think what it had done to Amy…and the baby. He almost choked on the water as he thought about losing both of them. _No, no, no… _

He repeated the defiant mantra as he swam through the water – well, was carried by the unforgiving current for the most part – and he refused to acknowledge the fact that he could lose her, lose them, over a stupid argument. A _mistake_. He would do _anything _to get her back.

His hearts were working overtime, pumping hot blood frantically through his veins, supplying his muscles with much needed oxygen. He had no idea how far he'd travelled away from the point he'd entered the water but he knew it wasn't far enough. It would never be far enough until he found her…dead or alive.

A flash of red.

The Doctor's sharp eyes immediately picked out the colour even in the dim light. And she was there, draped over a protruding tree root and some debris that had gathered at the edge of the riverbank, around the significant obstacle. Striking out with mighty pulls, he knifed through the water and forced his way over to her. As he drew closer he could see that she was unconscious; her body completely limp and her eyes tightly shut. She bobbed in time with the rippling water but that was the extent of her movement.

As soon as he came upon her, he grabbed her around the waist with one arm – there was no way he would ever let her go again – and grabbed at a sturdy root, hefting the two of them towards the bank and safety. Her clothes were sodden and she weighed much more than she usually did because of the baby but he managed, with superhuman strength, to drag them both up the muddy slope. Panting heavily, he forced himself to his feet, despite the fact his whole body was shaking uncontrollably from the cold and his legs barely felt like they could support him, so that he could pull her further up the embankment, away from danger.

Once she was far enough away, he dropped down onto his knees and felt for her pulse. He hadn't dared to before because he was utterly petrified as to what he would find. Brushing her tendrils of wet, matted hair from her neck, he pressed two trembling fingers against her pulse point.

"Please, please, please…don't do this Amy," he murmured.

There was nothing.

Immediately, he leapt into action, ensuring that she was lying flat and that her chin was tilted back before beginning CPR. As he breathed into her mouth and then performed compressions on her chest, he felt hot, salty tears spring to his eyes. They welled up and then spilled down his cheeks; unstoppable. He was breathless and his own lungs ached but there was no way he was going to stop forcing vital oxygen into Amy's body.

"Come _on_, Amelia," he said, intermittently, desperately. "You _have _to survive."

There was a sickening crack as he pressed down on her chest and he winced, trying not to vomit, when he realised he'd broken one of her ribs. If he had to make a list of all the worst moments of his life, including the destruction of his own people, this would be among the top, if not _the _top because Amy was completely and utterly innocent; the _baby _was innocent; he was the one who'd wronged them both.

He didn't know how long he performed compressions on her limp body. He didn't know how many ribs he cracked in the process of hopelessly trying to save her life. He just kept going. He was shaking so much and the tears were flowing so freely that he could barely see straight.

The Doctor breathed into her mouth one last time, ready to finally admit defeat, when she coughed.

It had to be the most glorious sound he'd ever heard. A cough and a splutter and some water trickled from her lips. Swiftly, he grabbed her and tipped her onto her side so more river water could escape from her lungs. As she coughed, her body writhed and the Doctor had to forcefully hold her down – which he knew had to be excruciatingly painful due to her ribs – to stop her from hurting herself or the baby. Not that he knew if the child was still alive after all this, it seemed like a very minute possibility.

"Amy? Amelia?" he said, gently tapping her face. When she did not respond, he knew he'd celebrated too early. He may have got her heart started once more and the water from her lungs was successfully expelled but there were still so many things that could kill her: infection from filthy water in her lungs, she could relapse into heart failure, she still had to battle hypothermia, her brain could have been deprived of oxygen and she could end up comatose.

In fact, as he began reeling off the list of terrifying possibilities in his head, she had an attack of apnea that almost immediately led to a full-blown seizure.

The Doctor realised he needed to get her to a hospital and fast. Leaning down, he scooped her convulsing body into his arms and ignored the painful punches and kicks she accidently gave him, before running up the tow path. A little way in the distance he could see lights. It was a village. He could call an ambulance from there. Actually, scrap that, Amy needed much better doctors than could be offered in this time period. If either she or the baby were to survive then he needed to get back to the TARDIS.

Upon reaching the darkened village, he hot-wired a car using his trusty sonic and swiftly placed Amy in the back seat. She had stopped seizing and now just lay deathly still. However, he had checked her pulse and knew she was still hanging in there.

After a manic drive from Thurlaston back to Leadworth, the Doctor located the TARDIS – back on the riverbank where this all started – and carried the unconscious girl inside. Her skin was icy cold to the touch and he knew that if he didn't get her some help soon then he would undoubtedly lose her to hypothermia. Swiftly, he set some coordinates on the control panel and then grabbed as many blankets as he could find for Amy. He wrapped her tightly in them and topped it off with warm fluids which he fed into her through an intravenous line that he grabbed from the medical bay. That was all he could do for her now. He was no medical doctor.

Two minutes later and they had landed. He just had time to throw and shirt on before he bundled her into his arms, like a father carrying his sleeping child, and sprinted out of the TARDIS doors straight into the emergency department of one of the best hospitals in the universe. Several people in the waiting room stared in shock when they saw the half-naked, dripping wet man emerge from the blue box but as soon as they saw the chalk-white woman in his arms they left him alone.

"Help me!" he yelled at the nearest nurse.

She was a young _Sporation_ with green spots and a pair of rabbit-like ears. At any other time, Amy would have been making jokes about lettuce and whiskers but, right now, her life was hanging in the balance; precariously close to falling over the edge for good.

"Here, put her on here," the nurse said, quickly and calmly, gesturing to a trolley.

Gently, the Doctor put Amy down and then helped wheel her through into the main treatment room.

"Sir, sir? What information can you give us? Any medical history of importance?" a doctor asked him in a commanding tone.

"Her…her name's Amelia Pond. She's twenty one. Human. She was…_is_ pregnant. Twenty-eight weeks. She's been in the water for…for too long," the Doctor murmured.

"Water temperature?"

"Ten degrees," he replied, automatically, his own nerve endings still tingling from being plunged into the freezing depths of the river.

"You've performed CPR?"

"Yes. She had a bout of apnea though and seizure," the Doctor replied, dully, staring at the once beautiful, vibrant Amy Pond lying lifeless and pale on the hospital bed, surrounded by doctors.

"How long was she without oxygen?"

"Five minutes?" the Doctor said, slowly. "I think. I'm sorry. I just…I just…"

"I have the foetal monitor here, Dr. Geddens."

The Doctor felt his hearts shudder in apprehension. He didn't want to find out. He didn't want to look at that screen and see no heart beat. He couldn't take it.

"First we focus on the mother, Miss Alexander, you know that."

"Please….please, just save them both," the Doctor whispered, helplessly.

"We will do everything we can, sir. Now, I think it would be better if you wait outside. We'll update you on everything that happens. I promise."

The young nurse who he had grabbed in the first place offered him a kind smile and led him away from the bed and the lifeless Amy and the baby who could be alive or dead. He didn't protest. Not this time. His sad eyes stared one last time at the woman who was carrying his child and then he left the room.

* * *

It was an hour before he heard anything. A whole hour that he had to wait in limbo wondering whether either of them would make it. Someone had recently handed him a pair of trousers and a blanket and he now sat on a luxury seat – after all this was a state-of-the-art hospital – and buried his head in his hands and just wished that, as a Time Lord, he could break the rules just this once and go back in time to change everything. If he could then they would never have had the argument in the TARDIS and she never would have left and she would have been perfectly safe; not fighting for her life in a distant room.

"Mr. Pond?"

The Doctor jumped at the sound of her voice and he looked up with startled eyes. It took him a moment to register that she was calling him Mr. Pond. He didn't bother correcting her.

"What's happening? How's she doing?"

"I'm afraid that we need to take her in for an emergency caesarean. I have the paperwork here for you to sign." She held out a stylus and an touch-screen for him to write on.

The Doctor didn't take it. He just stared at her. "The baby?" he murmured, "The baby is still alive?"

She offered him a small tentative smile. "Yes, sir, the baby is still alive. In fact, it is the baby keeping _her _alive."

"What do you mean?" he said, sharply.

"Well, the child has two hearts, which I'm sure you're aware of? So I'm guessing he's not entirely human." The Doctor nodded mutely. "And somehow…we aren't entirely _sure_ how, the foetus has reversed the role of mother giving nutrients and protection and blood to the baby. It seems that Amy's blood is being warmed by his body because his double circulatory system ensures his core temperature remains stable – and therefore it's now keeping hers stable. He's been keeping her alive this whole time."

Stunned, the Doctor opened and closed his mouth, unable to think of anything to say.

"Well, you seem as surprised as us," the nurse said, gently, "So I'm guessing this isn't a usual phenomenon in your species?"

"Er…no."

"Well then, I suppose we should just thank our lucky stars for this miracle and not question it."

The Doctor nodded but then froze, his eyes widening. "Wait, if you…you remove my son from his mother then what will happen? Surely, surely she'll die?"

The nurse looked sympathetic. "It's a possibility, I'm afraid, but we don't have any other options. If we keep him inside her any longer then he will die."

"But if you keep him in then it'll give you time to get Amy's core temperature back to the normal range? She'll live?"

"Well yes, it would give us time but then it may be too late to save the baby."

With a leaden heart, the Doctor slowly took the stylus and interactive pad off the green-skinned nurse and dropped heavily onto the hospital chair. The impossible choice was back to haunt him. The first time he'd ended his entire race and that had made sense. This time, he was floored.

**Don't hate me? :O**


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note - Thank you so much for your reviews! Although many of them contained the words 'You're evil!' or 'I hate you' I'm taking that to mean 'please continue', so here's the next chapter as requested. **

**And a special thanks goes to Marcus S. Lazarus for inspiring the idea behind this chapter. **

* * *

"I'm sorry, sir, I'm going to have to hurry you," the nurse said, gently.

The Doctor looked up at her vaguely and then back down at the pad with its fierce black writing glaring at him, ordering him to make a choice and sign the life of one of the most important people in his universe away. He just couldn't do it. The white glow of the pad was too bright and it made his eyes water. He wiped the tears away roughly with his sleeve but they continued to fall regardless - even after he stopped looking at the screen. The steady _plop, plop, plop _of each salty drop on the hard plastic was all he could hear.

For once he could think of no way out. No back up plan. No ingenious escape route. His options were printed on the screen in front of him and that was it. If he didn't make the choice then he could lose both of them. But what right did _he _have to make this choice? After all, he had made it perfectly, horrifically clear to Amy that neither of them deserved his love, that he didn't feel for them in the same way he had his family back on Gallifrey.

But that was a lie. Plain and simple. He realised that now. He had been lying to himself and her. He may not have realised because it had happened so subtly but he had fallen for her. The thought of losing her made him realise he couldn't imagine a life _without _her.

Still, all these feelings and revelations were too late. He was faced with her death or the baby's death and he knew exactly which one she would want him to choose. However, he just couldn't do it. He physically couldn't move his hand and sign her life away. He didn't have it in him.

"I can't…." he choked in a hoarse, broken voice, like someone was dragging his vocal chords over shattered glass. "I can't choose…"

A comforting hand fell on his shoulder and he felt the warmth of the nurse's skin seeping into his own. It did help. Somewhat. But even she couldn't make this decision for him. It _had _to be him. And he knew which ever path he did choose, he would feel guilty about it for the rest of his life. He'd never forgive himself. This was it. His life, as he once knew it, was over.

"I know it's hard," the nurse said, softly, sitting down beside him, "And I know that it doesn't seem fair. I mean your son has performed such a miracle, an impossible feat, and it doesn't seem fair that it should all come to nothing but his energy alone just can't sustain her any longer. She's draining him and he's weakening fast. That's why we need to make a decision. Can you do that?"

She looked steadily at the wild-haired, damp-eyed man sitting in the waiting room dressed in a badly-buttoned shirt, ill-fitting trousers and draped in a blanket and saw a broken, lost creature very far out of his comfort zone. She guessed he was someone who was used to being in control; who had an answer for everything. Unfortunately, this situation was completely beyond his capabilities.

"Sir? Your son is dying as we speak. You _must _make a decision."

Abruptly, the dishevelled, defeated man leapt to his feet.

"OH!" he yelped, his eyes feverishly bright. "Oh! Yes! That's it!"

He turned to the nurse and pulled her to her feet, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her so tightly that she struggled to squeeze air into her lungs.

"Thank you!" he exclaimed, "Thank you, thank you, _thank_ you!"

"I don't understand…"

"I know how to save them both!" the Doctor declared, joyfully.

The nurse stared at him. "You do? But I think the doctors have thought of everything, Mr. Pond."

"No! Not everything! They didn't count on me and when me and my big brain enter the fray things get interesting. I never give up, that's my problem." He was practically euphoric. "So no, Ms. Jemima the Nurse, I will not make the choice and neither of them will die today."

Momentarily startled by the use of her first name, Jemima realised he'd read the name tag hanging on her hip. "But…sir?"

"I need to see her right now."

Immediately, the Doctor marched towards the trauma room. Jemima followed suit, trying to catch his arm before he got too far. She didn't understand what he intended to do and Dr. Geddens had informed her to keep him out for now because he didn't want him traumatised by the situation. Also, what Dr. Geddens despised the most were overwrought relatives charging into their working space and interfering with the treatment. Jemima could only assume that that was _exactly _what Mr. Pond planned to do.

"Mr. Pond!"

"Not now, Jemima, I've got some lives to save."

The Doctor brushed her off and slammed through the double doors into the sterilised treatment room. He faltered for just a moment when he was reacquainted with the image of a lifeless Pond lying on a hospital trolley, but managed to regain his momentum almost immediately as he cruised across the tiled floor. There were a few nurses milling around checking Amy's vitals and they all looked up upon on his entry with surprised expressions on their faces. Dr. Geddens did not look happy. He shot an irritated glance at Jemima. She shrugged helplessly. This man was on a mission and there was nothing she could do to stop him.

Feeling more in control than he had been five minutes ago, the Doctor rolled up his sleeves, shed his cumbersome blanket and sized up his opposition.

"Dr. Geddens, if you don't mind, I'd like to try out a new... technique," he stated, firmly.

"I'm sorry, sir, but you are a relative, not a doctor and I know you are upset but you have no experience in the medical area. You could end up doing more harm than good."

The Doctor paused. "You're right, of course, but only on one front. I don't have much medical experience but I _am _a Doctor and, as much as it may surprise you, I happen to know a thing or two. Been around quite a bit me. Know how to get myself out of scrapes and such." His shot the doctor a disarming grin. "Now, if you don't mind."

He leant over and pulled away the blankets that were covering Amy's distended belly. Several nurses leapt forward in an attempt to stop him as he purposefully placed both his hands on Amy's cold skin and closed his eyes. Seconds later an orange glow sprung from his finger tips. Everyone froze. The fiery light from his fingers fizzed and sparkled like the tail of a firework.

"What on earth….?" Dr. Geddens breathed, using an age old saying that really wasn't appropriate now considering the obvious alien nature of the Doctor's actions.

The glow seemed to seep through Amy's skin, almost like an object sliding through water, and vanished from sight. With a gasp, the Doctor sprung back as if he had been burnt. In fact, his hand did look like it had been burnt quite badly. His fingertips were black and charred and the rest of his hand was red and blistering.

"Right, done," the Doctor panted, barely glancing at his wounded appendage, "Now get to work and save her life."

"What did you do?" Jemima asked, staring at the strange man and then at the young pregnant woman.

"I've bought you time, that's what," he replied, cryptically, "But don't ask me more because I'm afraid I can't tell you. It could endanger my family."

Everyone present in the room stared at him. Unmoving.

"Go on. _Shift_. Do your thing. Warm her up."

"The baby?"

"Will survive," the Doctor said with a small, satisfied smile.

Eventually, they just had to take his word for it. He was obviously not going to sign the form and therefore he seemed to have made his decision. They carried on warming her up, keeping an eye on both the mother's heart monitor and the foetal heart monitor – neither seemed to be failing. Whatever the Doctor had done seemed to have worked. Soon, they had Amy warmed up to the normal range of temperature and her heart was still beating. She was on a ventilator but they weren't in danger of losing her now.

The Doctor had been standing watch the whole time. One of the nurses had offered to treat his hand but he had refused. He merely continued to stare intently at Amy. When she was out of the danger zone, he exhaled a breath that he hadn't even been aware he was holding.

"You can get my son out now," he breathed.

Dr. Geddens shot him a curious look but didn't comment. Instead he did as instructed. They ensured that Amy was stable and then they swiftly prepped her for a c-section. The team was highly skilled and they soon had her ready. Precisely, the surgeon cut an incision into the smooth skin of Amy's abdomen, just below her bump. The Doctor felt himself shiver. This was the moment of truth.

Carefully, Dr Geddens sliced open her uterus wall and was momentarily stunned when a bright orange glow burst from within. He grunted in surprised, brown eyes widening. It took him a moment to truly register what he was seeing. Nestled comfortably inside this young woman's uterus was a…._glowing _baby. The infant was enveloped in a warm, orangey glow; like a blanket had been wrapped around him. Geddens looked sharply over at the Doctor who offered him a half-smile, his cerulean blue eyes sparkling with relief.

An awed silence had fallen over the audience to the birth of this miracle baby. No one dared breathe.

It was the Doctor – as always – who broke the tension.

"Don't worry," he said, his tone chipper, "It's not permanent. It'll wear off eventually. Bet that's the first glowing baby you've ever delivered, eh, Dr. G?"

"Uhuh," the surgeon choked, still in shock, as he handed the newborn over to a scrub nurse. "Um…er…he's premature so…yes…the usual protocol for preemies." Dr. Geddens managed to instruct his team despite the fact there was _nothing _'usual' about this birth.

The Doctor watched with shining eyes as his son was gently poked, prodded and examined before being hooked up to a variety of monitors and placed in an incubator. He filled the transparent case with his golden aura. All the nurses could do was stare at him; at his impossibility. However, the Doctor could look passed the glow and see his tiny, newborn son squealing and twisting like a naked kitten on the blankets he'd been piled on. After glancing at Amy to see that she was being treated and sewn expertly up, he took a few measured steps towards the infant.

"It looks like he might have a heart murmur," one of the nurses commented, quietly, to another as she checked his chest with a stethoscope. The Doctor's ever sharp ears overheard.

"Nah, that's perfectly normal."

The two women glanced at him with wide eyes but didn't question his idea of 'normal' because what they'd seen today already defied all their conventional ideas of what was and wasn't normal.

"Is he going to be okay?" he asked, cautiously, staring down at the small mewling creature with reverent eyes.

"His vitals are stable. His heart beat is very strong. After what he's been through, he seems perfectly healthy for a baby born so early."

"Good," the Doctor said with a grin, "And Amelia?"

"She's stable. She's not quite out of the woods yet but everything looks promising," Dr. Gedden's replied, still a little wonder-struck.

"Extra double good." The Doctor's grin widened.

"We'll just take him to the premature baby unit now," one nurse informed him.

"Oh, okay. I'll…" He stopped, glancing between the two of them. "I'll…"

Jemima could see he was struggling with the choice yet again. However, this time, it wasn't anywhere near as detrimental.

"Go with your son, Mr. Pond," she said, kindly, "I'll keep an eye on Amelia. She won't be waking up for awhile yet."

The Doctor beamed at her. His eyes crinkled at the corners. "Thank you very much, Jemima."

He was just about to leave when he stopped, turned and hurried back to the bed on which Amy lay, unconscious.

"See you in a bit, Pond," he whispered in her ear, "Just so you know, you did it and you were wonderful. We have a son." Gently, he kissed her temple and then walked reluctantly away.

* * *

Although Baby Boy Pond had been a spectacle for quite awhile in the special care baby unit, his aura began to fade until he only shimmered slightly if the lights were switched off and people began to lose interest. That suited the Doctor just fine because that meant he could just sit with his son and not have nosy beggars staring at the baby like he was a freak show. They were left in relative peace.

As the Doctor stared at his minuscule son, who was swamped in tubes and various monitor cables, he couldn't help but think how irrational and wrong he'd been when he had wanted Amy to terminate the pregnancy. It made his gut twist uncomfortably at the mere thought of this child not being in existence because of something he did. He was so glad that Amy was as strong-willed and downright brave as she was.

He also couldn't believe that he had thought that he may not love this child when he saw it. Right now, looking at his tiny pink face - all wizened like a little monkey - he couldn't feel anything other than love and devotion. This child may not have been created conventionally out of love but it would certainly find no shortage of it now it was here.

"So, little one," the Doctor whispered, tenderly, taking the baby's small fist between the thumb and forefinger of his undamaged hand. "I hope you realise what your mum's been through to help you into the world. She's made sure you got here safe and sound." He stroked the infant's soft skin. "But actually, I also want to thank you for saving _her _life. I don't know how but you managed it so, thanks. Already a hero and you're barely out of the womb. You're a tough little fella, aren't you? Just like her. And just like me, you're a survivor. You're gonna need that. Trust me." The Doctor's voice grew more serious, more pained. "'Cos, honestly, I don't think whoever was chasing your mum was out to get her for no reason. So we're gonna have to be extra careful, yeah?"

The small reddish-pink infant twitched one foot, like a rabbit thumping the ground, and the Doctor smiled.

"You're right, we've all got through it together this far, haven't we? We're not going to let a bunch of bad guys stand in our way. We'll show them."

**Ahhh...you happy now? A much calmer end to the chapter. I suppose it does have some ominous undertones. And I promise I will explain how the Doctor escaped the TARDIS, how he found Amy, who the figures were and why they wanted her, _and _this latest addition: how the Doctor saved the baby. ALL WILL BE REVEALED!**

**...if you review :P **


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note - Thanks for the reviews! They were great! Love you guys! Had my first exam yesterday! Thank god that's over. Only seven more to go! Gah! **

**And can I just say Oh...my...fudging...god at Doctor Who! Who saw that coming? NOBODY! I am in shock :O Its a good shock but a shock nonetheless. I want next week's episode NOW! Thank god for half term to take my mind off it! **

* * *

_Blink... Blink... Blink. _

Amy's eyelids had never felt so heavy. Her head was throbbing and her throat felt like a desert. She could feel a cough working its way up from her lungs. Her body began to crease in an effort to expel the mucus lining her windpipe but, as soon as she moved, a searing pain lanced through her chest and she gasped in agony, tears leaping to her eyes.

"Uggrh…" she groaned and her steady blinking becoming more rapid. Blurry images began to fill her vision. A ceiling. A bright, glaring light. Some flowers crept into her peripheral vision. A hospital? Slowly, she turned her head, seeking out a source of water to calm her burning throat. A plastic jug stood on the side. It was she stared at the clear liquid in the container that all the memories came flooding back.

_The dark figures. Running. Falling. Drowning. _

Her hand flew to her stomach. It was empty. Her heart seized in fear and the cardiac monitor beside her shrieked – the thin green line zigzagged more vigorously. Where was he? Where was her baby? Had _they _taken him? They couldn't have…could they? Where was he? As she grew more and more panicked the heart monitor screamed even louder until she suddenly heard someone running into the room. A rough palm grabbed her flailing hand in a firm grip.

The Doctor. Her green eyes focused on him, zeroed in on his familiar, angular face, on his broad chin.

"Doctor! Doctor, where's the baby?" she gasped, desperately, practically hyperventilating.

"Amy, calm down," he said, squeezing her hand tighter. His voice was soft and she was comforted. Her heart rate slowed. Several nurses had rushed in but the Doctor gestured for them to leave. "Amy, you're in hospital and you're safe. Our son is safe too. He was premature and he had to be delivered by c-section but he's alive and he's healthy - even if he does look a bit like a wrinkly rat." His eyes twinkled.

"How long have I been out?" she whispered, staring at him.

"Two days. Your body had a lot of recovering to do from the hypothermia and the near drowning after you threw yourself in that river."

"I didn't…" Amy protested immediately.

The Doctor interrupted her with a small smile. "I know, Pond, I was joking. I'm guessing you were being chased."

"Yeah…by these men – well, I think they were men – but they sounded foreign…"

"Hmm…." The Doctor looked pensive. "Well, I don't want to upset or worry you Amy but I think we should keep our presence here as quiet as possible, especially the bit about our son's heritage. It could cause more trouble than its worth."

"You mean they could still be after me?"

"I think they were after the baby," the Doctor replied, gravely, "But I'm keeping him safe so its fine. It's all dandy. You don't need to worry, Amy, you just need to focus on recovering. Okay?"

"Okay…will you tell me what happened?"

"In time."

Amy cocked her head but realised she wouldn't get anything more out of him so she changed the subject. "Can I see my baby then?"

The Doctor grinned. "Of course. I'll just go get a wheelchair. I'm sure the nurses won't mind a small expedition. I'll be right back."

Quick as a flash, he dropped a kiss on her forehead and left the room. It took Amy a moment to register what had just occurred. She was surprised to say the least. Had he really just kissed her? The Doctor didn't tend to do kisses. Maybe it was just a one off. She decided to let it pass. Instead, she waited patiently for him to return and take her to her baby.

As she lay in the unfamiliar hospital bed, Amy felt extremely disorientated. She didn't like not knowing what had happened to her between when she fell in the river and now but she knew that the Doctor wouldn't tell her until he believed she was ready and recovered. She was also nervous about the Doctor's serious words of warning earlier. Although she hadn't even met her son yet, anything that threatened him made her feel protective and anxious. Hadn't he already been through enough without more threats on his newborn life? Her heart shuddered in her chest at the thought of any harm coming to him.

"You all right, Pond?" the Doctor queried, concerned, his gaze flicking to the stuttering heart monitor. It was strange. She hadn't even heard him re-enter the room.

"Yeah," she murmured, "Did the nurses give me a clean bill of health?"

The Doctor scoffed. "Hardly but I can be pretty charming when I want to be."

"You're telling me," Amy retorted, sliding towards the edge of her bed in order to clamber into the wheelchair.

"Hey, hey, _hey_!" Swiftly, the Doctor caught her around her shoulders. "What the nurses _did _say was that I wasn't to allow you to do any strenuous movement and that I had to help you everywhere you go. Your incision site will be delicate and you have few broken ribs that don't want you jostling them…" He flushed a little at this and Amy frowned at him.

"How did I break my ribs?"

"I…er…" the Doctor stammered, scratching the back of his head, "I broke them when I was performing CPR. Sorry."

For a few moments Amy stared at him. Then she said, sincerely, "Thank you. Don't be sorry. I'm guessing you were the one who found me then? Saved my life?" She paused and snorted softly. "Figures. You've always been my dashing alien knight in a big blue box."

The Doctor didn't reply. He just offered her a gentle smile and helped her into the wheelchair. She hissed in pain as her ribs were jolted and he rubbed her back, soothingly.

"Do you want some more pain medication?"

"Nah. I'm tough. I'll ride it out," Amy replied, stoically.

The Doctor quirked an eyebrow. "There's nobody judging you."

"Yeah but I don't wanna be drugged up to my eyeballs before I see my son," Amy admitted, grimacing as she leant over to grab a blanket from the bed.

"_I'll _get that." The Doctor intervened, swiping the coverlet from her and firmly pushing her back into her seat. "You need to get your hearing tested, Pond, didn't I just say that you were to avoid any strenuous movements?"

"I was just getting a flippin' blanket!" Amy protested. "It was hardly strenuous!"

"You were terribly ill, Pond. I don't think you're in a position to complain about what is and isn't strenuous," the Doctor replied. There was a rough edge to his voice that Amy picked up on despite his obvious effort to control it. How bad had she truly been then, to get the Doctor so near to breaking point?

She decided to leave it for now. They seemed to be leaving a _lot_ of things unsaid at the moment but frankly she didn't think either of them was strong enough to confront their issues just yet. In fact, all she wanted to do was see her wee boy.

"So, are we going to move or do I have to wheel myself?" Amy joked, placing her hands teasingly on the wheels of her chair. Abruptly, she retracted her grip and shot a wry grin at the Doctor. "Oh wait….I can't….I'm sure that'll go under the list of things much too strenuous for me to do, right? Wait, can I pee on my own or is that forbidden because I'm _not _taking you into the toilet with me, Doctor, not today and not any time in the future – no matter _what _you say about my health."

"Oh very funny, Pond," the Doctor sighed, catching the handles of her wheelchair. "And no I will not be helping you with your bodily functions." He spun the chair and headed for the door. "Besides," he continued, merrily, "That's what catheters are for."

* * *

She didn't know exactly how she thought she would feel upon seeing her baby for the first time. She'd dreamt about holding him in her arms and telling him fairy stories and kissing him on his tiny button nose. But those dreams were nothing in comparison to reality. The reality of seeing her minute son in front of her – albeit swaddled in blankets and hidden under a multitude of wiring – was almost too much for her to take it and it was a good thing she was already sitting down or she might have collapsed. A frenzy of emotions hit her the moment she saw his small, elfin face and she found herself having to draw in several deep, steadying breaths to stop herself from hyperventilating again.

It was true he was tiny and very pink – almost ruby red in his colouring – and that scared her a bit. Most babies she'd seen were a healthy creamy-pink colour and she'd expected her son to look the same but, born at twenty eight weeks, his body still had a lot of growing to do. After all, he could have had another twelve weeks in her womb if events hadn't occurred. A little white hat covered his miniscule head and there was a nasal feeding tube that snaked over his cheek in order to sustain him but Amy ignored those obstructions and merely focused on the tiny creature that her body had created.

"He's gorgeous," she whispered, mesmerised. "Can I…can I touch him?"

"Yeah, I think that would be okay," the Doctor said, softly, smiling. He reached past her and undid the side of the incubator so that she could slip a slender hand inside. Tentatively, her fingers brushed his rosy cheek and then trailed down to stroke his fragile arm.

"Oh, Doctor…" she breathed, "I can't believe how beautiful he is. I can't believe he's _real_. I mean _look _at him…." Amy rambled in her lilting Scottish accent.

"I am looking," the Doctor replied. In actual fact, he was looking at the both of them: mother and son reunited. And _that _was a truly beautiful, moving sight. He couldn't believe how close he'd been to losing them both. Never again. He made that promise to himself and to the universe, _never_ again would he allow them to be in so much danger. He just hoped that the universe and all those living in it were listening because if whoever tried to mess with his family the first time around decided to make a second go of it then they would be sorry. When it came to his family, the Doctor would be merciless.

Amy was entranced by the small half-human lying in front of her and it took her a moment to register that apart from his rather rosy colouring, there was something slightly…odd about his outline.

"Doctor…" She tugged on his sleeve. "Why is…is he _glowing_?"

"You know, Pond, I didn't even _notice _that. Well spotted. Must be these lights," the Doctor said, nonchalantly. Amy wasn't buying it for a moment.

"_Doctor…_."

"Oh, all right, fine," the Time Lord finally conceded, dropping into a spare chair beside her and placing his elbows on his knees. He clasped his hands together and placed his chin on them, staring at her. There was a moment's pause as he contemplated her. "You…well, you were in a very precarious position…life-wise…."

"You mean I was dying?"

The Doctor coughed, awkwardly. "Well, yes." His periwinkle blue eyes stared intensely into hers. "You were…dying…and so was the baby."

"But…"

He held up a quelling hand. "Let me finish, Pond. You're ever so impatient. Anyway, there was a…situation…in which the baby was keeping you alive…"

"He _what_?"

"Because of his two hearts, he was better adapted at surviving the coldness of the water," the Doctor ploughed on, threading and re-threading his fingers. "And, although none of us are entirely sure how, he kept you alive by warming your blood through his own circulatory system." Amy looked flabbergasted. "So anyway, he needed a bit of help because he was using a lot of energy doing this special-amazing-backwards-blood-warming-thing-majig… and in order for him to keep you alive until you were out of danger, well, he needed a helping hand. To cut a lot of complicated processes and words and Time Lord Physiology lectures short, I used some of my regeneration energy to keep both of you alive. That glowing is residual regeneration energy. I tell you, he was quite impressively golden when he came out…like a little fireball."

Amy stared at him, utterly speechless.

"Oh, and the energy came from my hand. Just in case you were wondering," the Doctor said, brightly, holding up his blackened fingertips. "But what's a finger or two matter when they're sacrificed to save a life, eh? Oh, and I think I may have a lost a small chunk of my left buttock too. They may grow back, they may not." He shrugged like it didn't matter at all and of course - to him - it didn't, not when he got his son and his best friend back. "So, there you have it."

Amy continued to stare. He offered her what he hoped was an appeasing smile. It seemed to have little effect. Fortunately, at that moment, Baby Boy Pond chose to start mewling; his tiny, under-formed lungs managing to create quite a racket. Finally, Amy reacted, snapping out of her stupor.

"Oh god, what does he want? Why's he crying? Is he hurting?" she garbled, panicking.

"I think he just wants some attention," the Doctor said, calmly. "Give him your finger. He likes holding it."

Amy did as she was told. Immediately, she felt tiny fingers close around her digit and she felt her heart melt into a puddle of love and relief.

"He's stopped crying."

"He just wanted his mum."

Amy shot the Doctor a small grin and he beamed at her in reply.

"Bloody hell...we have a _son_, Doctor."

"Indeed we do."

"I just can't get over how tiny and perfect he is."

"Hmm…" the Doctor murmured in agreement.

"Don't think you've got away with not explaining everything to me, Doctor, though," Amy said, suddenly, shooting him a sharp look. "I may be being distracted by the cute baby but you can't dodge the answers forever."

"I'll tell you in time, Amelia."

"You'd better," Amy stated, definitively. She paused. "But right now, we've got to think of a name for this wee fella. Any ideas?"

"That don't involve Disney characters? No."

"I have a first name…." Amy admitted and, timidly, she told him the name that she'd been leaning towards for ages now.

"I like it!" the Doctor declared. "It's a proper, good old-fashioned human name. Perfect."

"We'll shorten it, obviously." Amy paused. "You wanna do the middle name?"

"Sure. Anything I want?"

"Within reason."

"Jolly good!" The Doctor grinned and clapped his hands together. "I'll go sort out the birth certificate, shall I?"

"Do we really need one?"

"Of course we _need _one, Pond. I mean we have to record Sprog's existence so he can start his own timeline. He needs a set point in time to start at otherwise birthdays and stuff will get extremely confusing. Trust me, I know."

"Okay. Well, have fun."

"I definitely will."

"You not even gonna tell me what it is?"

"It's going to be a surprise," the Doctor replied with a wink. "It's always more fun when it's a surprise."

He rubbed his hands together and left.

* * *

"Wow," Amy spluttered half an hour later. "_Really_?"

"Yes."

"Geez, you really are an _odd_ one aren't you, Doctor?" Amy said, slowly, with a raised eyebrow as she stared at the paper. She read it again. Twice. Just to make sure that she could trust her eyes.

"Sure am," he replied, lifting his chin proudly and straightening his bow tie.

"Well," Amy sighed, "It was your choice and now he's stuck with it. Poor bugger."

"I think it's unique. Like a name from a fairytale." He shot her a wry grin, recalling their first meeting all those years ago.

"Yeah…unique's one word for it," Amy said with a snort, "I can think of several others."

So, there it was in black in white.

_Frederick Alonso Pond _

* * *

**I hope you like the name. Don't hate me for not explaining the bad guys in this chapter. This chapter was about healing and fluff after all the angst! Please review! **


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note - Thanks very much for the reviews! They were lovely! Hence the next chapter being here so swiftly. And so the drama returns! **

* * *

The special care baby unit was quiet apart from the gentle, reassuring hum of the machinery that helped the premature infants in their valiant efforts to survive against the odds. Ventilators whooshed and pumped rhythmically, supplying various children with much needed oxygen. There was an occasional whine or a whimper or a squeak from the incubators that lined the room but, at this late hour, most of the babies had lapsed into unconsciousness, lulled to sleep by the dim lights and lack of movement.

In one corner, slightly shielded by a very large cardiorespiratory monitor with a multitude of coloured wiring sprouting from it, was a sleeping woman, curled in her wheelchair, russet hair falling haphazardly around her peaceful face. A pale blue blanket had been tucked tenderly around her but one hand peeped out from beneath the covers, snaking towards the transparent incubator upon which she was keeping vigil. One solitary finger was still tightly clasped in the small but firm grip of the infant that occupied the warm incubator.

Sitting beside the young woman and her sleeping child, was a man – a Time Lord – whose magnificent mind was preoccupied, not with the sight of his beautiful family slumbering safely before him, but with the dangers that lurked beyond this room; in the vast, dark universe. He sat forwards in his chair, hunched over, deep in thought. The threat to Amy and baby Freddie was very real. Inside him, he felt a shadow of unease and he couldn't shake the sense of foreboding. He knew something was going to happen… but he just didn't know _what_. And that angered and frustrated him. He didn't like facing the unknown; not when the consequences of _not _knowing, of not being _ready, _were this great.

Amelia had told him that there were three figures. She reckoned they were male but she couldn't be certain they were human. They only had a humanoid shape but they could still be any one of a million species in space. Being a biped was not unique to humans. She said they sounded foreign and it was hard to understand them but that they did have a voice, a way of communicating. It was like trying to connect the dots when only half the dots were present. The rest was just blank space. However, what he had managed to deduce was that they were not the ones who sealed his TARDIS door. No. If these unnamed figures had believed Amy dead as soon as she hit the water then they were not intelligent beings, not accustomed to the hardiness of humans and the determination of Time Lords. And he knew that whoever had blocked his door was knowledgeable – and extremely dangerous because of it.

He had only managed to break down the invisible barricade using a very ancient back-up system of the TARDIS that allowed him to manually override the lock on the door. Whoever had trapped him would not have been aware of that back-up, it was a knowledge that Time Lord's had kept very secret – for good reason, it seemed – and required an actual living Time Lord to activate it. For once, the Doctor was very glad of his race's eternal paranoia and sense of self-preservation because without their need for an extra escape route from their own time ship, he would not have been able to save Amy in time.

Once he had overridden the blockade, he had been even more certain that Amy was in terrible danger so he had activated her mobile phone from his main console – something he didn't usual do unless it was an emergency – and found a recording of its last GPS point before programming those coordinates into the TARDIS. That's how he ended up on the bank of the river. It was only in retrospect that he realised Amy's phone had been broken as soon as she hit the water so he had only been taken to the last place it had been functioning rather than where it had ended up. He was just indescribably grateful that everything had turned out fine in the end.

But he still didn't know who had been chasing her as they were long gone by the time he arrived. His best guess was that they were bounty hunters – or grunts – but that certainly didn't get him any closer to knowing who was pulling the strings. If anything, it made his unknown enemy even more mysterious and even more deadly.

Sighing in frustration, the Doctor climbed to his feet. He needed some air. He took a moment to kiss Amy on top of her head and then he stroked Freddie's small pink arm before heading outside.

* * *

The Doctor wandered around the hospital for a bit. It really was _very_ swanky. Everywhere you looked there were gleaming tiles, fine wooden doors and polished metal handrails. The majority of the walls were a clean, crisp white but there were a few colourful montages painted for some focus points. He found his way to the main atrium and gazed in wonder at the spiralling staircases that ascended high into the distance. The ceiling was so far away that he could barely see it. He had no idea how many floors this hospital had or how many patients it housed. He just knew it was the best of the best and that was why he'd brought Amy here. It seemed he'd made the right call.

Swirling a little bit as he took in all the possible angles of the hospital, he caught sight of something that made his face light up.

"Oh!" he grinned, clapping his hands together so loudly that he scared a passing woman. "Sorry!" he called after her, apologetically, "Got a little overexcited there but did you know they have a _gift_ shop? Isn't that wonderful? Just what I needed to cheer me up…Oh, she's gone. Cheerio then!" He shrugged to himself and sauntered casually over to glass-fronted shop.

Once inside, he browsed the various aisles, not looking for anything in particular but savouring the normality of it all: the uniform lines of chocolate bars, the hologram magazines, the stacks of singing cards and the zoo of stuffed animals. As he reached the rows of soft toys, the Doctor paused, contemplating them. He ran a long finger over several of their fluffy hides. Wasn't it customary for humans to buy cuddly toys for their newborn children? As a keepsake?

_Well_, the Doctor thought, internally, as he fingered his bow-tie, _he could do human_. Freddie was half-human, after all, and the Doctor decided he needed a soft toy, just like any other baby. But what to pick…

* * *

After much dilemma, the Doctor left the shop half an hour later with a soft zebra clasped in his left hand. Its fur was unbelievably fluffy but that wasn't why he had chosen it. He'd chosen it because it was unique to Earth. There wasn't any other planet in the whole universe that was inhabited by zebras. They were one of a kind. After all, what could be more fun than a stripy horse?

As he made his way to the lifts, something caught the Doctor's eye and he turned his head towards the large A&E waiting room that he had appeared in only three days ago. His TARDIS was still parked unobtrusively in the corner, blending in with the furniture as if it was meant to be there. Thus far nobody had commented on it or asked him to move it so he merely left it be. However, he could now see someone standing right in front of it, staring. Changing direction mid-stride, the Doctor padded silently towards them. As he drew closer, he shuffled quickly behind a potted plant and peered through the lush green leaves.

The creature inspecting his TARDIS was a biped but he wasn't human. His skin was an odd mottled orange colour – as if he'd applied fake tan very ineptly – and his ears were elfin, their pointed tops drooping a little away from his head. He had pitch black hair, unnaturally shiny, and his upper torso was very bulky in comparison to his lower body. It was covered in kind of khaki waistcoat. He looked like one of those human body-builders but just painted like a tangerine and with fox ears. In fact….was he a fox? There was definitely a fox-like element to him; his side profile showed a snouty nose and the Doctor could have sworn he saw whiskers catching the artificial glow of the hospital lights. Suddenly, the fox-man turned abruptly, sniffing the air. The Doctor froze, struggling not to quiver as he fought to stay put. Every fibre of his being was telling him to run, run to Amy and the baby and get them as far away as possible from this creature, whatever it was. In the past he would have stood, confronted the alien, but he had his family to think about. He needed them to be safe first.

The fox-man seemed to have caught wind of something because he set off at an alarmingly fast pace towards the lifts. As he strode, he made an odd bark-call and four more creatures slunk into view, falling into step behind him. They had reached the lifts doors.

Springing into action, the Doctor considered the spiral staircases but he knew that even if he ran as fast as he possibly could, he would never reached Amy first – not at the rate those fox-people were going. Therefore, he turned sharply and ran in the opposite direction, towards his TARDIS. He was surprised they hadn't left anyone to guard it…whoa! He'd spoken too soon.

Another fox-man appeared from the other side of the TARDIS just as he reached her familiar blue doors.

"Yikes!" the Doctor yelped, stumbling backwards as the fox lunged at him.

The creature was impossibly quick and the Doctor only just had time to roll out of the way as he was almost garrotted by massive, lethal looking claws.

"Whoa! Not even gonna introduce yourself then?" he stammered, ducking and diving like he was performing some kind of elaborate jive.

A snarl tore from the alien's mouth as he swiped for the Doctor again. "You can't dodge me forever, _Time Lord_." His voice was rough and growly – just like a fox that'd been given vocal chords. His fierce yellow eyes flashed as he missed his opponent's vulnerable stomach by inches. "Just give it up. You won't survive this."

The Doctor shot him a 'really?' look before whipping out his sonic and blasting it at the creature. The fox screamed in agony, dropping to the floor and writhing like he'd been bathed in acid. Usually, the Doctor wouldn't resort to such violence but he didn't have time to mess around; he needed to reach Amy and Freddie and fast.

Unfortunately, such a vicious act had run down his sonic and it was useless to him now. He wouldn't be able to take on the rest of the pack. He entered the TARDIS, ignoring the frightened shrieks of onlookers, and tossed the tool and the soft zebra - that he somehow still had - onto the edge of the console. Quick as a flash, he set coordinates for the special care baby unit – thanking some higher power for his forethought in recording the specific place – and held on tight as the time ship rocked its way up to the fifth floor.

Once she'd landed, the Doctor burst out of the TARDIS and barrelled into the quiet baby unit. Several mothers looked up at his loud entrance and glared at him. Two nurses stepped towards him but froze when they registered the blue box standing just behind him. Somehow, he'd managed to miss all the vital equipment that cluttered SCBU and the TARDIS was neatly planted between a ventilator and a pulse ox machine.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," he garbled at them all, "Don't mind me. Pond!" He leant down and shook her.

"Wha'?" Amy groaned, blinking slowly.

"Pond! We have to move. _Now._"

"Huh?" She was bleary-eyed and slow-moving. The Doctor couldn't afford to waste this kind of time.

"Upsy daisy, Pond," he said, grabbing her out of her chair – semi-careful of her injuries – and plonking her unceremoniously through the open door of his ship. Once she was safely inside, he turned to the incubator. "Sorry about this, little fella. We're just having a little bit of a crisis. I hope you won't mind the change of scenery."

"Sir? Mr. Pond? What are you doing?" one of the nurses asked, plucking up the courage to step forwards once more when she saw that he was beginning to unplug various machines. "You shouldn't be doing that! Those machines are helping to keep your son alive. Sir!" Her tone grew more desperate.

"Don't worry, don't worry," the Doctor replied, hurriedly, shooting them a charming smile as he undid the brakes on the incubator and began wheeling it backwards into the TARDIS. "We have all this stuff at home. It's fine. I've been reading up for just this kind of occasion. I'm practically a nurse now! We'll be all right. Ta-ra and thanks for everything. Oh, and if some men come in here in a moment looking for a Time Lord child, tell them he's long gone. Got it?"

With one last - slightly strained - grin, he closed the blue doors. Immediately, the TARDIS began dematerialising. The nurses could only stare after them, gobsmacked. Their astonishment grew tenfold when, literally ten seconds later, four massive mutant fox creatures burst into the room. All the women present screamed in fear, especially when they saw the guns balanced on the animals' narrow hips.

"Where's the Time Lord baby?" the leader barked, ferociously, sniffing the air.

"I….I…." The nurse trembled, her eyes shining with tears of fear. "He's gone," she finally managed to blurt out.

"He went ages ago," the other nurse added, her lip trembling.

"You better not be lying to me, human," the tallest fox growled, advancing.

"I'm…I'm not!"

"Alpha-Fennex, I don't know how long the baby has been gone but it's definitely not here now," one of the younger foxes intervened, sniffing around the various incubators.

"Damnit. We've lost it," the leader snarled, turning away. "Let's move."

* * *

"Doctor, what the _hell _just happened?" Amy pounced on him as soon as he was back inside the TARDIS. "And how is Freddie gonna survive without all that…stuff…"

"He'll be fine. Time Lord's are designed to heal fast. Besides, I wasn't lying when I said we have all their equipment in the medical bay. Plus, I really have been swotting up on treatment and care for premature babies. I'll have you know I'm quite the expert now."

"You've had two days! Three tops!"

"Amy, I'm not a genius for nothing," the Doctor replied, primly. "Now, let's get Freddie here to the med bay. You wanna give me a hand? These stairs are going to make things _interesting_ to say the least."

"You didn't answer my question. What. Just. Happened?"

"I'm not entirely sure, Amelia, but if I was to take an educated guess..." He paused. "I would say that there are some very dangerous bounty hunters out to get little Fred… and, unfortunately, we've only just out-foxed the first wave…"

* * *

**Duh duh duuuuhhhhh... A few answers to questions there. I hope they were satisfactory. I'm sure you've got a whole lot more now! But that's the fun of it, right? Review! **


	15. Chapter 15

**Ahhh… I'm in love with Steven Moffat. So, so, **_**so**_** much love for him after the finale. :D :D :D I wanna be like him! I think like him, anyway! I guessed River's identity! And no one believed me! Pfft! But by god I would LOVE to have his job. He's tipped the Who-Universe on its axis and I bloody adore him for it! **

**Anyhoo, thanks for the reviews!**

**And sorry for the time lapse between updates, I've been revising for some VERY important, life-changing exams which could be the difference between me getting to university to study for my dream career (other than being a writer for Doctor Who *sigh*) which is to be a doctor (aha, nothing to do with Doctor Who, just so you know!) I hope you can all understand my priorities! **

* * *

"Ta da!"

"That….doesn't look like it did in the hospital," Amy said, worriedly, as she eyed the bizarre arrangement of tubing, wiring and machines that surrounded the stolen incubator.

"Oh, no, of course not, my version is miles better. Look, look, it has one of _these_."

"That's a mobile, Doctor," Amy replied, "That's not going to keep him alive."

"How do you know it's a mobile? It could a special drug dispensing device," the Doctor harrumphed.

"Is it?" Amy queried, crossing her arms and arching an eyebrow.

He paused, scratching his head. "Well, no, because that would be stupid. It's merely for entertainment purposes. As is this!"

"A zebra?"

"To keep him company."

"You're going soft, Doctor," Amy said, picking the toy up and playing with its black fuzzy mane.

"Am not," the Doctor spluttered in protest and swiped the zebra from her grip - shooting her an affronted look in the process - before placing the animal back in its rightful place beside his son. Freddie made a small squeaking noise, his eyes still firmly closed. He was still so small and fragile.

After he'd replaced the toy, the Doctor gently stroked the baby's tiny head. He really hoped he could do this. Premature babies weren't exactly his area of expertise but he'd learnt as much as he possibly could from several thick medical textbooks that he'd swiped from the hospital, committing them to memory in the nights that he waited for Amelia to wake up; spectacles perched on the end of his nose as he scanned the hundreds of pages and kept careful vigil on the two most important people in his life.

It was true that if a parent lost a child, they grew much more protective of their surviving children. The Doctor found that with Freddie. He had never been an overbearing anxious parent. In the past, his kids had had free reign. Their home had been a place of raucous laughter and frivolity: children sliding down banisters, building explosive inventions in their rooms, having parties, staying out late. But Freddie's entrance into the universe had already been so fraught with danger that the Doctor was totally on edge; his nerves were fried. And, as if Freddie wasn't in enough jeopardy having been born early, there now seemed to be a massive target on his head. Still, the Doctor was determined to remove that target as soon as possible. There was no way that he would allow his son to be hunted like some animal by some unknown enemy.

"You sure he's gonna be okay, Doctor?" Amy's voice brought him back to reality and he reluctantly removed his finger tips from Freddie's soft hair to look up into her fearful face.

It made him angry. Unbelievably angry. She shouldn't have to be worrying like this. Not in her condition. She'd almost died. She'd had major surgery. It was a traumatising experience that she shouldn't have had to go through and that made him furious at himself – for putting her in this situation - and livid at whoever had caused this pain to his family. His old guilt was resurfacing. If he hadn't plucked her from normality, taken her to the Acorn Centre and accidently got her impregnated with a Time Lord baby, then she wouldn't have to fear for her son's life. A sick feeling twisted in his gut and he couldn't shake it. He _had _to make this right again.

"Yeah, he'll be fine," the Doctor replied with conviction, "I'll make sure of it."

* * *

Amy spent the rest of that day in the medical bay with baby Freddie. She didn't leave his side. The Doctor had told her about the fox people – who he'd researched on the TARDIS database and found were called Vulpines – and how close they'd come to capturing their child. The mere thought of losing him made her terrified, especially as she stared at his tiny, vulnerable body. He was like a baby bird, his arms and legs so thin that they looked like they could snap at the smallest amount of pressure. And she could see his hearts thumping rhythmically beneath his ribs because he had no fat insulating his body. It was both perturbing and entrancing. She could see every contraction of the muscles as they fought to keep her son alive but she knew it wasn't natural to witness that. Nothing about Freddie was normal. She was yet to decide if that was a good thing or not.

It felt sort of strange to be back in the TARDIS after the way she'd stormed out. As yet, neither she nor the Doctor had mentioned the incident that caused her to put herself in harm's way in the first place. However, she couldn't escape the fact that she had admitted her love to him. Every time she thought about it, she felt her stomach curl uncomfortably in embarrassment. She'd yelled at him. She'd said she was returning to Leadworth…

But he'd hurt her and she couldn't forget that either. Each sentence he'd spoken had been like a barb straight to her heart. It was like he just couldn't stop causing her pain. In hindsight, with a clearer mind, she knew that he had not intended to hurt her in any way. He just didn't understand what his words were doing to her. But they still haunted her.

_I don't think I can love you as anything…more._

_We were not in love then; we aren't in love now._

_I wish you were back in Leadworth with the man you love and who loves you back._

They had ended all her hopes of ever entering into a relationship with the Doctor. She'd had his baby but that was it. And she was finally accepting that, despite the ache in her heart.

"Besides, I'm giving all my love to you, little man," she whispered, tenderly, to her baby. "And I've got to focus on making sure you don't get hurt. Not on some silly romance. You're my priority now." Leaning down, she slipped her head through the open incubator side, and kissed him softly on his forehead. "You do know you're flippin' beautiful, right? I seriously can't stop staring." A smile curved her slender lips. "You're gonna be fine, Freddie. Your dad won't let anything happen to you and neither will I. Not on my watch."

* * *

"So, what's the plan?" Amy asked, sitting on the edge of the kitchen table and swinging her legs. There was a twinge of pain at her incision site but she ignored it. A tiny tick just below her eye was the only indicator that she was in any pain. Instead, she focused on the Doctor who was methodically eating a banana.

"The plan…" he began, clapping one hand on the surface of worktop that he leant against. "The plan is to make sure they don't get Freddie."

"Riiight. Got that." Amy nodded. "But we can't keep running for ever."

"That is true," the Doctor agreed, smacking his lips as he finished his banana and lobbed it into the bin across the room. "But we can keep running for a good while. Besides, I like running. Running is good. It's what _I'm_ good at. Tremendous runner me. I entered the Olympics once – by accident, I was actually on the run from a Berowne Bear and I just barrelled onto the track perchance – anyway, I came second! Second! Can you believe that?" His eyes glittered with amusement and his mouth stretched into one of his trademark smiles. It was a smile that made you want to smile back. Amy found she was particularly susceptible – especially when he coupled that grin with his patented zany arm movements.

"Back on subject, Doctor, if you please," Amy said, smirking.

"Oh, yes, of course. Okay. Well although they did manage to gain control of my TARDIS door for a short time when you were absent…"

"Wait, what?"

The Doctor cocked his head at her, considering. "Ah, I forgot. Didn't explain that part to you did I? Well, the reason I didn't reach you quicker was because someone had performed some jiggery pokery on my dear old girl's doors. Messed them up good and proper. Fortunately, I could override the systems manually and get to you in...relatively good time."

"Okay…" Amy took a moment to ponder on his revelations but she barely had time before the Doctor was ploughing on.

"Anyway, as I was saying, although they did gain control of my TARDIS I've made sure that it can't happen again. Well, at least until we land. Then it's a free-for-all for TARDIS-meddlers."

"Does that mean we can't leave this ship?"

"Well…." The Doctor seemed to ruminate on her question for a moment before saying, shortly, "Yes."

"Right."

"Not until I find these…people or aliens or whatever they are and tell them - very forcefully…" There was a dark glint of anger in his blue eyes. "That their interest in Freddie is not at all welcome. Then they'll call off the bounty hunters and we can set about living our lives once more – free from pesky kidnappers."

"Right," Amy said, once more. She paused. "So, effectively, we're trapped here for the foreseeable future. Until we work out who's the mastermind behind this ginormous, twisted, baby-napping plot?"

"Sounds about right."

"Great. Just great. Do we have enough supplies and stuff? Wait, we haven't got any baby things! How are we going to dress Freddie and change his nappies and feed him when we're on a bloody _time machine_?"

"Oh, don't worry, Pond!" the Doctor declared, brightly, "I have plenty of nosh to tide us over and stuff for little Freddie to boot."

"You have baby food and nappies?"

"Well, somewhere, yes. It may take awhile to find it though…" The Doctor looked around him, as if he was mentally mapping out the inside of his rabbit-warren spaceship.

"Why?"

"Because the TARDIS is a pretty big place, in case you hadn't noticed, Pond," the Doctor replied, incredulously. "Lots of windy corridors, moving staircases - no, wait, that's Hogwarts - anyway, random rooms..."

Amy stared intensely at him. "No, why do you have baby things on board?"

"Oh, you know." The Doctor shrugged. "For emergencies."

Amy didn't believe him in the slightest but she didn't comment. "Had a lot of babies travelling onboard then, eh?"

"You'd be surprised," the Time Lord said, cryptically. "Anyway, we'll be fine for the next…twelve months."

"And then?"

"And then we'll have to leave the TARDIS whether we like it or not because we'll have no food left." His expression was serious now, as he contemplated that possibility and the danger it would put his family in. "But hey-ho, hopefully it won't come to that and we'll vanquish the baddies long before things get dicey." His smile returned, fleetingly.

"Yeah. I hope so too."

Amy didn't like the idea of living in quarantine for a year, having to raise their son in the bowels of a space ship, unable to experience the universe that was literally right on his doorstep but there was no way she would put him in unnecessary danger. She kind of felt like Anne Frank – she'd read the girl's diary at school and she remembered being horrified by how they were forced to live – and now it was her turn to live as a hunted person, counting down the days of confinement.

It certainly wasn't going to be an easy ride.

* * *

Over the next couple of weeks Freddie grew steadily. He was putting on the essential ounces that were needed to insulate his fragile body and protect it from harm. His lungs were developing and soon he stopped needed extra oxygen to help him breathe. The collection of wires and tubes that had swamped his miniscule form slowly diminished. The bili lights that had been trained on him to reduce newborn jaundice were switched off. He was fighting and he was winning.

The Doctor ensured that he was perfectly on schedule and that he was growing properly. He was the one who checked all of Freddie's measurements and neural activity. Never before had he actually performed his role as a doctor with such attentiveness. He'd never studied medicine before – despite his title – but now he poured over neonatal care books, that he dug out of the vast library, just to make sure that he was giving his son the best possible chance of survival. However, as he'd predicted, Freddie didn't need as much help as a normal premature human baby because he was half Time Lord and therefore had the double circulatory system and infantile ability to replicate cells – coupled with his regenerative Time Lord DNA – at an astonishing rate.

Freddie's skin became a less vibrant shade of red and became a more natural cream colour as his small frame was insulated with fat. The lanugo – downy body hair -which had coated him for extra insulation faded away and the hair on his previously bald head was slowly growing. There was no way to tell what colour it would eventually become. However, the few tufts present were a neutral brown.

He was being fed on a combination of specialised formula but also Amy's breast milk. The conversation between the Doctor and Amy about this had been particularly interesting.

"Erm…Amy," the Doctor had began, awkwardly, rubbing the back of his ear. "I was wondering if it would be possible to…er…um…use your breasts."

"You what?" Amy's eyebrows had shot into her hairline.

The Doctor held up his hands, flapping them furiously, and looked terribly flustered. "For breast milk! I meant for breast _milk_!"

"And there was me thinking you were just being a big perv," Amy said, teasingly. However, the words almost got lodged in her throat. It was hard to joke about things like that with the Doctor now, especially after what had happened between them.

"Yes, I'm sorry. That came out _all _wrong." He sighed at his social faux pas. "Let me try again. Amelia Pond, would you be so kind as to allow me to…ahem…pump your…ahem….breasts for milk in order to feed Freddie and get him the vital immunities and nutrients that will help him to survive."

"Why, of course, Doctor," Amy replied, in an overly polite voice. "Why didn't you say so?"

After that, he'd uncomfortably handed her the pump and told her swiftly how to use it, before departing like his backside was on fire.

They had now lapsed into a kind of steady rhythm. Amy would keep a practically constant vigil on Freddie, stroking him, talking to him and humming softly to him whilst the Doctor would pop in and out intermittently to check on them both in-between fixing various parts of the TARDIS and trying to find a lead on whoever had sent the bounty hunters to catch Freddie.

Freddie was now two weeks old.

"Doctor! Doctor get in here, _now_!"

The Doctor came sprinting in at Amy's shout, looking concerned, his limbs flying all over the place.

"What? What is it? Is there something wrong?"

Amy grinned up at him. "He's opened his eyes, Doctor. _Finally_. Look."

She pointed a long slender finger into the incubator and the Doctor's gaze dropped to his son's face. Sure enough, the infant's eyes were wide open and staring – right at him. They were massive in proportion to his tiny wrinkled head but they were bright and curious, eager to understand this dazzling new world. Unused to such brilliant light, Freddie's pupils were hugely dilated and they filled most of his heavily hooded eyes so it was hard to tell what colour his irises were. They would have to wait awhile to see.

"Hi there, Fred," the Doctor breathed, wiggling his fingers in the child's eye-line. "I have to say, it's nice to finally meet ya properly. Bet we look much weirder than you expected, eh? All big and ugly looking?"

"Hey! Speak for yourself," Amy intervened, hitting him playfully on the arm.

"That's your mum," the Doctor continued, "She's a very special person." He glanced at Amy and smiled before turning back to his son. "But then you know that, don't ya? She looked after you for seven or so months. Made sure you were safe. I bet you recognise her voice don't you? Then again, I guess it's hard to forget those brash Scottish tones?"

"Oi!"

"I jest!" the Doctor chuckled, still unable to tear his gaze away from his son's equally intense one. "Anyway, I'm your dad….Hello…." He wiggled long fingers again in a small wave. The grin on his face never wavered. "I'm called the Doctor but you don't have to call me that. You've already met too many doctors. You can just call me 'Dad'…or 'Daddy', whichever your prefer."

Amy couldn't help the massive smile that spread across her pretty features as she heard the Doctor's words. Thus far, this was definitely one of the best moments of her life. Perhaps, she should be taking photos.

"He looks like a bush baby. You know, like off _Madagascar_?" she observed, finding herself interrupting the sweet moment without even thinking.

"Ha, he does too. You hear that? Your mum thinks you're a monkey. Already! You haven't even started trashing the place yet. Then again, I guess you humans are all apes, after all."

"Watch it."

"Merely stating the truth, Pond." He shot her a cheeky look. "Anyway, now we've had all the excitement of Fredster-"

"Don't you _dare _start calling him that!" Amy interrupted, indignantly.

"Of Fredders."

"Stop it," Amy said, warningly.

"Of Freddie-boy opening his peepers, I think its time we have a cuddle with him. Whaddya say?"

Amy gaped at him. "I say _hell _yes! Really? I finally get to hold him?"

"I don't see why not. I've consulted the books and…"

"Yeah, I don't care about that. Lemme hold my baby."

The Doctor chuckled at her impatience and leant into pick the small baby up. As his hands closed around the tiny body, he marvelled at how such a tiny creature could be alive and how much bigger he would potentially grow. The baby was featherweight and he easily lifted him, surrounded in blankets, out of the incubator before placing him delicately into Amy's waiting arms.

The moment that Freddie was placed in her arms, Amy froze. All her muscles suddenly seized up and she found her brain screaming: 'Don't drop him! Please don't drop him!' The fear of damaging such a fragile living thing was almost overwhelming. She almost wanted to hand him straight back to the Doctor and tell him she couldn't do this. _Almost_. But something stopped her. Perhaps it was the tiny yawn that his mouth stretched into or the way his large eyes stared up into her face; so alert, so alive. And suddenly she didn't ever want to let him go. Carefully, she offered him a finger and he took it into his small fist.

"How does it feel?" the Doctor asked, his eyes twinkling.

"…Wonderful…I can't….just _wonderful_…" Amy gushed in breathless voice. "I never want to let go."

"That's exactly how it's meant to be."

* * *

"Doctor, I've tried everything," Amy wailed, "And he just won't stop crying." Her cheeks were wet with her own tears and her bottom lip trembled hopelessly. She looked ready to break at any moment. Freddie continued to shriek in her arms. His hands balled into fists; his face red and puffy. "I can't…I can't do this….he won't shut up."

"Hey, hey, c'mere," the Doctor soothed, striding over and gently extricating the crying infant from her exhausted arms, "Why don't you go and lie down and I'll take a turn looking after Freddie? You look dead on your feet. Go on. We'll be fine." He nudged her with his elbow. Amy just looked at him for a few moments. Her lips half open, as if she was about to argue, but then she just seemed to give up.

"Okay. If you have any trouble then wake me, yeah?"

"Certainly," the Doctor replied, with an affirmative nod of his head. Freddie's screaming was getting louder. His eyes were scrunched up and his small mouth was open wide as he aerated his lungs. "We'll be fine." He shouted the last part over the din and Amy just stared at him as if to say 'whatever you say'. It had been a few days since they'd completed the phasing of Freddie out of the incubator. He was now four weeks old. They'd had to have a few test runs – making sure his skinny body could withstand colder temperatures outside his warm incubator – before he was allowed to sleep in a cradle rather than his previous plastic home. Since then, he hadn't stopped crying.

Dog-tired, Amy padded away in search of her bedroom.

* * *

Four hours later, Amy woke up to the sound of silence. It took her a moment to register that she was in the land of consciousness and not still fast asleep, curled up like a harvest mouse in its cosy little nest. How could it be this quiet? It hadn't been this quiet in the TARDIS in days. She could have sworn that the time machine had been staging a protest against the noise levels because she kept switching the rooms around and had redecorated the bathroom in neon pink just to make a point. Amy didn't know what she was meant to do. It was hardly her fault that Freddie wouldn't be quiet. He was a baby. He didn't have an off switch.

Gradually, she slinked off the bed and stretched, feeling the vertebrae in her spine clicking into place. Sighing, she checked her stitches in the mirror. They didn't look as angry red as they had the other day so that was a good sign and the bruising on her ribs was now yellowing. She was healing. Slowly but surely.

Not particularly caring about her appearance, she dragged a brush through her tangled russet locks and wiped away some residual mascara that had smudged on her cheek. Once she was vaguely satisfied, she pulled on large hooded jumper and shuffled towards her bedroom door in her slippers.

Five minutes later – having checked the other rooms for the Doctor and Freddie - she found herself in the control room. Slithering down the steps in her soft footwear, she finally heard some noise, some evidence that she wasn't the only one still alive on this TARDIS. The time ship herself sounded happier than she had in a long time, humming softly, her lights warm and welcoming. Tentatively, Amy made her way onto the lower floor of the room, down the curling staircase.

And there was the Doctor, working hard, bashing some kind of large box with a rubbery purple mallet. She looked around. It took her a moment to spot her baby but the moment she did, her breath caught in her chest and she felt her heart melt. The Doctor had constructed some kind of sling made from his jacket and hung it from the struts above his head. Inside the makeshift hammock was a teeny tiny baby, nestled in the soft material like a caterpillar in a cocoon.

"Its warm and he likes the way it sways," the Doctor's voice wafted towards her, "And I think he likes the humming of the TARDIS. Perhaps it reminds him of being in your uterus. I'm not sure. Plus the lighting is pretty womb-y."

"Womb-y?" Amy only just managed not to splutter for fear of waking the peacefully slumbering child.

"Womb-like?" The Doctor pulled a face. "Anyway, as soon as I put him in it he stopped crying and fell asleep. So I've just been working down here…and keeping an eye on him - obviously." He shot her a nervous look, wondering how she would react to him hanging her baby up in the air.

"Well, it seems to work. I'm not gonna complain," Amy finally said, dropping down beside him. She hugged her knobbly knees to her chest. "He looks very peaceful."

"At last." The Doctor shot her a smile.

"I suppose we should have guessed that a half Time Lord would only happy when he's practically sitting on the heart of the TARDIS. Like father, like son, eh?"

"Hey, I don't _sit_ on the TARDIS. That would be rude. She'd definitely complain."

"Well, she seems happy now," Amy commented, glancing around the tranquil room that was bathed in a bluish-green glow.

"Yeah," the Doctor agreed, "For awhile I thought she might stage a protest and move out."

Amy laughed, softly, careful not to disturb Freddie. "Well, at least we might finally get some peace around here. From both of them."

* * *

**Okay. There you have a specially long chapter! So please, please review!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Thank you for the reviews. I'm at an extraordinarily low point in my life right now so sorry for the time between updates/bad quality of the chapter. I swear my life is falling apart around me :( so some nice reviews would really, _really _be appreciated right now. Anyway… on with the story. **

* * *

"Blasted Randomiser," the Doctor grunted, irritated as several sparks flew into his face. Fortunately, he was wearing his trusty goggles so they didn't cause him much harm. "Why do you _always _do this when I need you? Useless piece of space junk…" He grunted again as he whacked the box with his fist.

"Wotcha doing?" Amy's voice floated down to him. Squinting, he could vaguely make out her russet hair through the abundance of wires that were obscuring his view from inside the TARDIS' engine.

"I'm…ow…" He hissed as a hot spark skittered across his exposed cheek. "Trying to fix the Randomiser."

"A randomiser? What's that?"

"No it's _the Randomiser – _with a capital R," the Doctor corrected, extricating himself awkwardly from the bowels of his machine with a grunt and a crack and a popping of knees. "Ooh…that didn't sound good." He made a face and wiggled his bandy legs. "Just shake it out, shake it out." Amy merely raised an eyebrow.

"Okaaay, what's the _R_andomiser for then?" She deliberately over-enunciated the beginning of the title, just to irritate him. "It sounds like a game show."

"Pond, Pond, Pond," the Doctor sighed, shaking his head at the same time as he tried to pull the goggles off his eyes. Inevitably, he hit himself in the face. "_Oww_!" he cried, aggrieved.

"Fool," Amy offered as her only condolence.

"You know, I hear that surprisingly often," the Doctor said, completely unfazed, as he blinked at her with owlish eyes. "Now….where was I? Oh, yes, explaining the delicate intricacies of the Randomiser!" He brandished a long finger as he spoke, shaking it in the air. Amy watched it wobble as the Doctor continued to ramble to himself for a few more moments. Abruptly, he clapped his hands together and stared at her. "Right, did you understand that?"

"Nope, not a sausage," Amy replied, immediately, snapping out of her trance and smirking at him.

The Doctor sighed. "Okay, didn't think you would. Put simply, the Randomiser allows us to travel to any point in time and/or space but we have no control _whatsoever _over where we land. The TARDIS will just materialise somewhere and _ba-da-boom _that's where we come out."

"Isn't that what happens anyway?"

"Oi, watch it."

"Okay, so the point of this is?"

"Well, it means we can't easily be followed and it may give us some time off the ship because I, for one, can't take being cooped up in here for one more minute! I feel like a porcupine in a pincushion factory – absolutely useless."

"Right, moving swiftly on from your questionable similes, three questions…" Amy said, shooting him a pointed look which he completely ignored. "One, are you sure we'll be safe? Two, how do you know it works? Andthree, _mostly importantly_,who the hell is powerful enough to follow a flippin' TARDIS through a time vortex?"

"Pond, of course we'll be safe. That's the point of the Randomiser. I've used it before and it worked pretty well – for awhile…But I've made it better this time! Added a few extra settings so we won't _keep _ending up in Paris because as much as I love the French, all those croissants were doing _nothing _for my figure…."

"Doctor."

"Oh, right, yes. And to answer your last question." He paused and his expression darkened. "I'm not entirely sure but I have a fairly good idea and I _definitely _don't like it."

"So…?" Amy asked, both eager and apprehensive to know who had put a price on her child's head.

"I don't want to scare you, Amelia," the Doctor said, gravely.

"Trust me; you're already doing a pretty bang up job." Her tone was both sarcastic and incredulous.

"Right…I think I've met him…well, I suppose technically he's an _it_ because he only has an anthropomorphic form as a means of speaking to mortal beings."

"Come again? _Mortal_ beings?"

"Yeah…" The Doctor exhaled heavily and closed his eyes. "I may have upset him at one point...or three points….the second of which may have ended with him bursting into flames – which was completely justified, just so you know, 'cos he did try and have me assassinated – and, well, I was…." He looked awkward. "I was kind of… maybe…warned that he would seek revenge having been thwarted twice and this warning turned out to be accurate and I beat him _again _but...well...that obviously wasn't enough."

"Warned by whom?"

"Uh…by his eternal enemy the White Guardian."

Amy paused, thinking. "So that would make him…"

"The Black Guardian."

She let out a low whistle. "That sounds ominous and properly, _properly_ bad."

"Unfortunately, that would be a rather accurate summation of the situation," the Doctor replied, quietly, rubbing his temples as if trying to ward off a monster headache. "Especially as he wants to be mega-supremo of the universe and wreak chaos and evil everywhere." Amy gaped at him. "Did I miss that part out? Yeah, sorry, that's his master plan."

"And he's not even a _living _thing?"

"Exactly, and this is why he needs bounty hunters to capture Freddie because he can't do it himself."

"Geez…so…really what you're trying to tell me is that you made an enemy of the 'dark side' of the universe?"

"Er…yeah but you have to believe me, Amy, when I say that he was up to some very bad stuff. I _had _to do something!"

"As always," the girl sighed, "I think I'm gonna need a while to wrap my head around all this. Call me if you need me, I'm gonna be with Freddie."

As she slunk off, the Doctor sighed. That could have gone better. For one, he probably shouldn't have told her that the bad guy they were fighting wasn't even mortal. That probably freaked her out a bit too much. She already had enough on her plate without the extra worry of fighting an indestructible enemy because, essentially, that was what they were dealing with. The Black Guardian – the Doctor now understood – could not be destroyed permanently. Yes, his humanoid form had been destroyed last time they had met but he still existed in the antimatter in the fringes of space and it was only a matter of time before he built himself a new voice-piece through which he could contact the corporeal world.

The Doctor had been building up to the conclusion that their enemy was the Black Guardian for some time now. He'd spent weeks considering all the possibilities, which in actual fact weren't too numerous as there weren't many who could manipulate the TARDIS against him. Truly intelligent enemies of the Doctor were few and far between. That's why this particular unknown adversary had troubled him; scared him even – and the Doctor didn't scare easily, not after what he'd been through. He had narrowed down the intelligent enemies further by adding the question were they powerful enough? Did they have the resources?

And the Black Guardian was the one enemy he was left with. Thus, he had installed the Randomiser - just like last time.

The thing was, apart from evading the Guardian, there wasn't a lot he could do at this moment in time. He didn't know _everything_, even if people seemed to think he did, and therefore he was unsure as to how to overcome this problem. However, with some deep contemplation, he was sure he could conjure up a multitude of possibilities. He just needed _time_.

* * *

Freddie was five weeks old today and, although he had been very premature and technically shouldn't have left the womb for another seven weeks, he wasn't lagging too far behind the size a normal baby would be. The Doctor explained that this was because of the special combination of 'space steroids' he'd been feeding him and the rapidly duplicating cells in a Time Lord inherited through genetics. Apparently, it had something to do with regenerations and having to sometimes re-grow arms but Amy hadn't bothered pressing for details.

Pressing a soft kiss on his smooth, almost hairless head, Amy inhaled his unique, sweet baby scent and tried not to let the tears spill over. She didn't want anything to happen to him. _Ever_. She didn't want there to be some ultra-powerful, vengeful bad guy out there trying to chase the TARDIS through time to capture her son. She didn't want the Doctor to actually look _worried _for once when he informed her of the peril they were in. Amelia Pond just wanted to love her newborn baby like any other first time mother; to cuddle him without being petrified of it being the last time she ever did; to have a chance to be like a normal family. That would never happen with the Doctor though. That's what he'd always warned her. It was what she signed up for. Did she regret it?

Holding this beautiful, precious child in her arms, she definitely didn't.

"You okay, Pond?"

She looked up abruptly, hearing his gentle tone. He was leaning against the doorframe, his arms half-crossed in an awkward manner; a concerned expression furrowed his brow. Once she had registered his presence, she turned back to the infant, fighting the tears that were still threatening to fall.

"I've been better," she whispered in a slightly choked voice.

The Doctor didn't reply immediately but she heard his soft footfalls on the carpet – she could recognise his loping, uneven gait anywhere – and she was aware of his presence by the bed. The mattress sank as he dropped down beside her.

"I'm sorry, you know," he said, in a quiet voice.

"Yeah, I do know, doesn't change anything though, does it?" Her words were slightly bitter but her voice lacked the usual Scottish bite as her tears began to drop steadily onto Freddie's head. He grizzled slightly but did not seem overly bothered by the unexpected dampness.

"I didn't mean for you and Freddie to get dragged into all this, Amelia. I obviously didn't ever want to put either of you in danger and I'll do _everything _in my power to make sure that nothing ever happens to you. I can promise you that much." He paused, snaking one arm around her slender shoulders and encasing her and Freddie with the other, tugging her close and kissing her affectionately on the temple. "You're my family and you both mean the universe to me."

Amy settled comfortably against him, tucking her head between his broad chin and his padded jacket shoulder. She felt warm and safe in his embrace. He was her Doctor. Her Protector. She'd never doubted him before and she wouldn't this time. He'd never let her down. And in that moment, wrapped in the strong arms of the man she loved, with her beautiful baby in her arms, feeling both their twin hearts thumping steadily, she felt like they _were_ a proper family; just like the Doctor said they were. She savoured the feeling because there were dark times ahead and she needed this memory of when things were good.

They stayed huddled together for a few more minutes as the TARDIS hummed rhythmically in the background. Neither of them seemed inclined to move. Unfortunately, the decision was taken away from them as Freddie grew restless and started whining, wriggling in Amy's arms like a worm. He stretched his small limbs out, bumping his mother on the cheek with his fist.

"Alright, alright," Amy soothed, "You've got my attention. I get it. You're bored." She shot a small grin at the Doctor. "Freddie's had enough of this quaint domesticity. I think he wants some action."

"Action?" The Doctor's eyes widened and his jaw dropped at the innuendo.

Amy corrected herself, hastily. "I _meant_ some _fun_. I'm gonna go get him some toys. Will you hold him?"

She passed the baby to his father and took a moment to admire the sight of the bouffant-haired alien cradling his tiny, blue-eyed son before she left the room in search of the playroom which the TARDIS had created recently. It was a treasure trove of toys and Amy knew that when he was older, Freddie was going to spend hours playing in that room. It was like having your own toy-shop – any kid's dream. She would have killed to have such a vast array of toys ranging from soft teddies to elaborate coloured train sets to robots with interchangeable weapons and heads. However, at this age, Freddie couldn't do much and just enjoyed watching her dance the vibrant objects in front of him. That was entertainment enough for him and he would gurgle and wiggle excitedly. The Doctor had sniffed at Amy's games, suggesting that Freddie was bound to be more evolved than human babies and that perhaps she should try something more stimulating and challenging. Amy had replied that even if he was half flippin' Time Lord, the other half was all human and humans liked silly, pointless games so he could shut his stupid, pompous alien mouth. That had told him!

By the time she returned to her bedroom, the Doctor was busy bouncing Freddie up and down in his outstretched hands. Music seemed to be playing from some invisible TARDIS speakers and the Doctor was jigging the befuddled infant along to the beat. At first, Freddie seemed a little sick by the up-and-down movement but he soon got used to it and stopped looking like a constipated frog.

"You like that, don't ya, chimp?" the Time Lord said, pulling a face. Freddie seemed to enjoy the odd expression on his father's face but the smile on his face was probably due to trapped wind more than anything else. "Who's a funny looking little chimp-face, eh?"

"Oi, I _do not _appreciate you calling our son 'chimp-face'," Amy said, choosing that moment to step in.

"Aww…" The Doctor looked up at her with a disappointment on his expressive face. "Why not? He likes it. Don't ya?" He looked at the baby. "Chimp-face!" Freddie gurgled.

"Hey, don't you encourage him, Freddie; I'm trying to save you from a life-time of embarrassment….and therapy – though it's probably too late to save you from that."

"But he does have a chimp-face, Pond," the Doctor whined, "I mean, look at those chubby cheeks and the big eyes and the _massive _ears! I think that must have been a left over genetic code from one of my previous selves as I _certainly_ don't have those ears now. Sorry, chimp. Hopefully you'll grow outta them."

"You can't call him chimp, its degrading and patronising. He's your _son_."

"I think it suits him," the Doctor replied, haughtily.

"Gawd, you really are from another planet."

"Well, I've never denied that."

"Here, let him play with this." She thrust a plastic boat at him and an aeroplane. "And if I hear you call him chimp _one _more time there will be consequences! You got me?"

"Loud and clear, capt'n!" the Doctor replied, saluting her.

"Right, I'm gonna have a shower. Call me if you need help with nappies or if some bad guys ransack the TARDIS or…whatever…just fetch me, yeah?"

"Yup. Say bu-bye to your mum, Freds." He caught one of Freddie's minuscule hands in his fingers and waved it at Amy. "Bye. Bye." Amy couldn't help but smile and she waved back before leaving to room.

"Hey," the Doctor whispered, conspiratorially, in Freddie's small ear, "You and me, chimp, we're gonna have some real fun. We don't want this rubbish. I mean aeroplanes….she got you _aeroplanes _to play with when we're on a spaceship. That's just ludicrous. No, I have some much better things for you to play with, some of which include a bit of fire…and some dry ice….and a banana…. but we won't tell your mum that, will we? Our little secret…"

**Please review! Oh, and for more information on the Black Guardian, look on Wikipedia. More will be explained in my story too!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note - Sorry for the long absence. Thank you very much for the reviews. **

A pair of large, serious blue eyes stared out of the wooden bassinet, focussed intently on the figure sat in a nearby rocking chair. The Doctor lounged with the ankle of one leg balanced comfortably on the knobbly knee of the other, forming a loose triangle. In his hands he held a green book, battered, with a broken spine and half the pages falling out – it was well-used, well loved. _Moxx In Socks… _a remnant from his own distant childhood. With a pair of black spectacles balanced on the end of his nose, he occasionally glanced down at the yellowed pages but mostly he gazed back at his son, who was propped up on soft white pillows in the crib that had once belonged to the infantile Doctor, and enraptured him with tales of Moxx and the amazing adventures he had in his special socks. He did not really need the book itself for he had learnt most of Moxx's escapades off by heart but it was nice to feel the rough cover against his palms and to remember his past.

Freddie's gaze was unwavering as he absorbed his father's words, his expressions and his actions. He had not uttered a single sound since the Doctor had begun reading and seemed almost like a charmed snake, entranced by the music of his father's voice. The bow of his pink lips quivered intermittently as if he was almost trying to imitate the shapes that the Doctor's own larger mouth was making. His tiny, chubby fingers twitched every time the Doctor flourished his own hands in order to embellish the story. He was learning, accumulating knowledge.

"….and then Moxx jumped ever so high to grab his socks from the monster on the rock. He jumped higher than a Fluffhopper could hop, higher than a Whirlibird could fly and higher than he had ever jumped in his life. Moxx grabbed his socks and the monster roared and…"

"Doctor, what on earth are you reading to the wee boy?" Amy's soft Scottish lilt sounded from behind the Doctor.

He paused and craned his neck to look at her.

"It's educational," he muttered, flushing a little, and closing the book quickly.

"It's about socks."

"Well…uhum….socks are an important – _very _important, in fact! – part of dressing yourself. He needs to learn these kinds of things you know, Pond….for the future….about…. dressing…. appropriately."

"Riiight, I see." Amy nodded, her expression highly amused. "Well make sure you tell him never to couple them with sandals and he'll be just fine. And let's just hope that he hasn't inherited your awful fashion sense."

As she spoke she leant over the crib and tickled the baby on the belly. Freddie squeaked in delight and wriggled beneath her touch.

"Aw. Now who is the cutest little munchkin ever, eh?"

"He gets that from me," the Doctor said with a smug grin, tweaking his bow tie. "And I'll have you know my dress sense is sublime."

Amy raised an eyebrow. "The only thing he gets from you, Doctor, is that crazy hair and a lot of messed up Time Lord DNA. Have his eyes stopped flashing golden yet?"

Amy scooped Freddie gently out of his bassinet and cradled him against her chest. He made some funny little noises but seemed quite pleased to be in the warm arms of his mother. He still hadn't quite started smiling properly yet but it wouldn't be too long. He was six weeks old today.

"Er…" The Doctor scratched the back of his head. "About that….you see, well… I don't think they're going to stop flashing golden. They may even stay that colour permanently soon."

"You're kidding?"

"What! Golden eyes aren't that unusual!" the Doctor exclaimed, "Just 'cos you have those boring muddy colours on Earth doesn't mean other planets haven't been more adventurous. I mean on Oodledawn they have eyes that change colour depending on their mood. You know, like those silly little ring things you get in Earth gift shops that never really work?"

"So what other races have golden eyes then, eh?" Amy asked with one hand planted firmly on her hip as she stared intently at the Doctor. He squirmed uncomfortably under her gaze. Freddie watched this interchange between his mother and father with rapt attention.

"Well….erm…. there used to be an ancient dragon race that had golden eyes but they're all gone now….erm…. I'm sure there are more!" he finished in a higher pitch than normal when he saw Amy's face, taking a step backwards. "But _really_, Amy, you can't complain because if he didn't have those golden eyes then, well, he would probably be dead."

Amy scowled but had to concede a little. "I guess."

"Good. I'm we're agreed." The Doctor clapped his hands and sniffed the air. Suddenly his nose wrinkled and he turned on his heel. "Now, I'm going for a wander. I'll be back soon."

However, Amy had recognised that look and grabbed his elbow before he could escape.

"Oi! I know what you're trying to do and it won't happen _again_. You have to change his nappy one of these days, Doctor."

"Scuppered," the Doctor sighed and winked at Freddie who chirped in approval. "Alright then, chimp, let's get you cleaned up."

He plucked the baby from Amy's arms and took him over to a side room where there was a changing table. Gently, he laid Freddie down on the star-splattered mat and began to undress his tiny body. His son jiggled and kicked with excitement.

"Hey, come on, don't make this harder, Freds," the Doctor chastised, half-heartedly, because the baby looked so happy with fresh air on his legs that he couldn't be too irritated.

"Gurga," Freddie replied.

"Yup, exactly," the Doctor smiled and then proceeded to clean the baby up. Once he was done he placed his lips on Freddie's silky soft belly and blew a big wet raspberry. Freddie gurgled and kicked happily. "Come on, Freddie, give your dad a smile." He blew again. Freddie squealed.

"Are you torturing him in there?" Amy called from the main nursery where she was picking out some clothes for the infant to wear.

"Nah, I'm just trying to make him….SMILE! He did it! Pond, he jolly well just did it!"

"Pull the other one."

"The other what? I'm not pulling anything…" came the Doctor's perplexed reply. "Ooh! And again! Come in here, Pond, you don't want to miss this."

Amy dropped the array of baby clothes she'd just selected and hurried into the other room. Sure enough, the Doctor was there blowing raspberries on Freddie's skin and the baby was smiling away, his eyes shining a bright gold.

"You like that don't ya, chimp?"

"Aww, he's so cute." Amy melted into a puddle of goo. "He has dimples! Watch out though, Doctor, if you keep pressing on his belly like that then…."

"ERGH! Freddie!"

"That might happen," Amy sniggered as a thin jet of yellow liquid splashed the Doctor.

"Thank you for that warning, Pond, thanks a lot. _This _is why I don't _do _nappy duty. Tarra."

With that, the Doctor sauntered from the room.

"Good shot, kiddo," Amy said, chucking Freddie under the chin and laughing. He grinned gummily back at her.

* * *

"We're going to land somewhere."

"We are?"

"Yes."

"You sure it's safe?"

"'Course! Well, for a good two hours at least…" The Doctor paused, looking thoughtful. "Then we should probably get outta there quick smart."

"You really know how to reassure a girl don't you, Doctor?"

He was barely listening to her now. He was too busy flouncing around the console pressing buttons and cranking levers and whooping whenever the TARDIS made an exciting noise. She watched his antics with a mixture of exasperation and amusement. The Doctor was just a big kid. A big kid with a time machine. From what she had experienced this was both a good thing and a bad thing; sometimes she was exhilarated and sometimes she was scared witless. It just depended on where the Doctor's whim took them next. However, now she had Freddie to consider, she was a bit more unsettled by his impulsive behaviour.

"Are you really, really sure that we'll be safe? That Freddie will be? Maybe we should leave him on the TARDIS?"

The Doctor froze and turned to stare at her, looking scandalized.

"_Leave_ Freddie on the TARDIS? _LEAVE _him?" He looked like she'd suggested throwing the infant off a cliff and Amy was a bit indignant.

"And what's wrong with that?" she asked, huffily.

"You want to deprive a young, curious, impressionable Time Lord of the wonders of the universe by leaving him behind? His brain is at its most powerful, most receptive, most absorbent _right now_. What he learns in this very moment could shape him for the rest of his life…"

"Okay, okay! Alright! Keep yer wig on!" Amy replied, "I get that you want to make him pretty much the biggest brain-box in the universe but _'right now' _I'm more concerned about his safety than his IQ."

The Doctor considered her for a moment. "He'll be fine, Amelia. I promise." He shot her a trademark grin before adding, "By the way, did you know that a Time Lord IQ is at least seven times higher than that of the average human being? We have our own range as yours is much to low. It's called the…."

"Big-headed, arrogant prick IQ scale?"

"You know what…." The Doctor grinned. "It may have been something along those lines."

"Does that mean Freddie will be a geek like you?"

"Well, if by 'geek' you mean incredibly handsome, intelligent and athletic then probably yes." He added a tilt of his chin and a toss of his hair for emphasis. "Don't you agree?"

Amy quirked an eyebrow. "Pfft, in your dreams," she snorted but felt a small, hot blush work its way up her neck. She turned away in an effort to hide it and she decided she probably got away with it when she saw the Doctor return to working on the TARDIS control panel.

"Et voila!" the Doctor declared, jovially.

"Have we landed in France?"

"Eh?" The Time Lord looked perplexed for a moment. His smooth face contorted into a frown. "Oh…no. Sorry. Just felt like saying that. Actually, we've landed on a planet called Albany."

"Sounds pretty."

"Oh, it is. It's beautiful. There are golden beaches, blue mountains, splendidly warm, clear seas and the most terrific rushing rainbow waterfalls. You'll _love _it."

"And we have two hours to enjoy it?"

"Yes, unfortunately, just the two. We'll have to come back some time because, trust me, you won't want to leave."

"Yeah, in a time when we're not being pursued by angry, vengeful immortal beings," Amy said, sarcastically.

* * *

It was truly stunning.

And the Doctor was right. As soon as she stepped onto the warm sandy beach Amelia Pond did not want to leave. Her breath left her lungs as she stared at the expansive ocean where glittery purple dolphins jumped out of the perfectly cresting waves and the beach stretched for miles with not a single soul blemishing the smooth surface. To her right were undulating dunes and lush green forestland as well as the promised navy blue mountains that looked like a giant duvet quilt. Through some of the trees she could see splashes of colour and could hear pounding water and she realised that it must be the waterfalls that the Doctor had spoken of. Her heart thumped with excitement.

"Its magical," she managed to gasp.

"Isn't it just," the Doctor replied in that annoyingly smug 'look how clever and wonderful and right I am' voice. "Hey, do you like it Freddie?"

He was asking the small baby that sat comfortably in his arms, coolly observing the world outside the TARDIS for the first time. His owl-like eyes processed the entire incredible setting for a few moments before, finally, Freddie broke his impassive façade and squawked to be let down. As soon as he found himself in the sand he couldn't stop smiling and gurgling.

"Oh, no, Freddie, don't put that in your mouth. It's bad for you." The Doctor weakly attempted to stop the infant shoveling handfuls of the wonderful soft, slippery stuff in his mouth. Despite his father's warnings, the baby continued on regardless as the Doctor flapped in the background.

"Ha, that's the human side of him for ya," Amy replied with a smirk. "Not that absorbent sponge of a genius you were hoping for, eh?"

The Doctor shot her a filthy look and then tried to distract the baby with a pretty shell which Freddie promptly put in his mouth, drooling all over it.

"Yurrrck," the Time Lord sighed and then resigned himself to the fact that the baby would do what he wanted, when he wanted and that was thanks to the genes of _both _his mother _and _his father.

"Hey, Freddie," Amy said, scooping him up, "You wanna go splash in the sea? C'mon!"

The three of them raced down to the water's edge. Amy kicked her shoes off as she ran and the Doctor paused for a few moments, hopping on alternate feet in an effort to remove his cloddish boots, before catching up. They entered the sea together, splashing water everywhere. Amy screeched and Freddie squeaked with glee as both his parents guffawed with unrestrained laughter. They hadn't been this at ease in quite awhile having been cooped up in the TARDIS for a good few months. They had been craving this wonderful freedom.

Taking Freddie from his mother, the Doctor bounced the baby in the water, dipping his toes beneath the surface. He giggled and kicked his legs in joy.

"Ooga! Ooga!"

"Yep, this definitely calls for some ooga, ooga-ing! I agree whole-heartedly." The Doctor chuckled and then blew a raspberry on the infant's exposed round belly. Freddie shrieked with happiness and wriggled in his grip so much that the Doctor nearly dropped him. Half his little body ended up in the water and he cried out. "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry chimpy. Truly sorry."

But Freddie was having none of it. He was wet and cold and he cried and cried, bellowing for all he was worth.

"Shh, shh, come now, Daddy's sorry." The Doctor rocked him gently and slowly took him out of the water and up the beach. Amy followed quietly.

They passed the TARDIS and walked through the line of trees. The Doctor led the way, wending through the trunks until they reached a beautiful blue cliff and the most fantastic rainbow waterfall.

"Hey, Freddie, look at that," the Doctor whispered in the baby's tiny shell of an ear. The child, who had been sobbing heavily, caught sight of the falling water and stopped crying immediately. Instead he stared in awe. "Its pretty great, isn't it?" The Doctor stroked the baby's downy hair with his large hand, soothing him.

"It's unbelievably beautiful," Amy breathed from his left.

"Yeah," the Doctor agreed with a small smile, staring over Freddie's head at the gorgeous woman, mother of his child, silhouetted against the rushing water, "It really is."

* * *

They returned to the beach and by that time Freddie was fast asleep in the safety of the Doctor's arms. Amy darted back into the TARDIS to fetch a blanket and they placed him on it between the two of them. He barely made a noise as he was transferred. His parents reclined either side of him in tranquil silence, lost in their own thoughts, as they stared out at the expansive ocean.

"Thank you for bringing us here," Amy finally broke the silence in a soft voice. "I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome. I thought you could do with a break," the Doctor replied, shooting a caring smile at her. "We all could. I just _wish _I could give you longer." His voice was full of regret.

"Hey," Amy said, turning from the sea to look fully at him, "This is enough."

The Doctor's mouth was a thin, worried line. "I just wish I could take you and Freddie away from all this. To take you out of the equation."

"We're part of the equation whether you like it or not Doctor and we are certainly not going anywhere. Besides, there's nowhere I'd rather be than with you. I feel safe with you."

"But I'm _dangerous_, Amelia," the Doctor admitted, painfully. "And I'm a terrible father to Freddie and a terrible…friend to you for putting you through this. It used to be fun and games – a jolly good laugh - but things are serious now; things have consequences. Big ones. I haven't had this kind of responsibility in a long, long time." He paused, still staring at the rippling ocean. "And last time it didn't end well."

"It's different this time," Amy replied, adamantly, though she was not entirely sure _why _things should be different; she just _felt _they were. The Doctor was a different man to who he was in his past and she was certain that he would protect at least Freddie, if not all three of them. And as long as her son was safe, that's what mattered to Amy.

"But I _can't _let anything happen to you both."

"Doctor," Amy said, catching his chin with her fingers and turning his face towards hers. "I _know _without a doubt that you will protect Freddie better than anyone ever could. You will _never _let anything happen to him and that's why I see it is in my son's best interests for us to stay as close as possible to you."

There was a long pause where neither of them uttered a sound. Only the gentle, rhythmic swell of the ocean could be heard.

"But I cannot bear to lose you either, Amelia," the Doctor finally said, earnestly, his blue eyes boring into hers, "You mean too much to me and I just don't know if I'll be able to guarantee your safety."

"I'll be fine."

"You don't know that."

"I can be optimistic, can't I?" Amy said, raising an eyebrow.

The Doctor lifted his own hand and cupped the fingers that were holding onto his chin. "I've almost lost you before, Amelia. I'm _not _prepared to do it again. I've learnt that much."

His intensity was almost overwhelming. Amy had to concentrate on remembering to draw breath.

"But…"

"I _will not _lose you."

And then he drew her face close to his and placed the most tender, heartfelt kiss on her lips. Just as Amy regained her senses and was about to reciprocate, he pulled back.

"I _will not_," he repeated, vehemently.

Amy had no idea what to say.


End file.
